


The cup fulfilled of love, from which my lips are wet

by Anathema Device (notowned)



Series: More Strong than Time [2]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Murder Mystery, References To Past Rape/Noncon, References to Cancer, references to violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 12:46:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 31,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10640154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notowned/pseuds/Anathema%20Device
Summary: Athos receives bad news about his mother, and must go home with Constance for Xmas, despite the presence of his brother and his ex wife.Things go downhill from there.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My deepest thanks to [@acaitstuff](https://acaitstuff.tumblr.com/) for catching some horrendous oopsies! And if anyone else spots any, please let me know.

Constance picked up the carving fork, her nose wrinkling in disgust. “This one’s disgusting too. Look.”

Athos looked over from the sink and grimaced. “Yuck.”

“Unless you love food poisoning, I think we should just wash everything.”

“May as well. We’ve washed half of it already.” His phone rang, and he made another face. “That’s my father.”

“Better take it, love. I’ll keep going.”

Athos quickly wiped his hands, pulled out his phone and answered. “Hello, _Papa_.” He wandered over to the living room to have the conversation.

Constance deliberately didn’t listen, and didn’t take offence at Athos suddenly getting up and going to their bedroom. It had only been a few days since Athos had called his father to ask about swapping accommodation with his brother, and there had been a couple of awkward family discussions since then. She and Athos were stuck in this dreary safe house until his brother and his girlfriend—she refused to think of Anne as _Athos’s wife_ —found a suitable alternative. At least his brother could afford to rent somewhere else in Paris. On Athos's salary, there was no way he could, and Constance couldn’t contribute much without eating into her savings, which Athos refused to allow. That money was for her future, he insisted.

She was beginning to rethink the whole ‘move to Paris until after the attempted murder trial’ thing. Maybe she and Athos should just find an apartment in Antony and move in there, let the police sort out the security. But the Antony police just didn’t have the resources that the Paris police did, and they’d definitely be safer in Paris. 

She sighed and threw the dirty carving fork into the sink, then pulled out the drawer and put all the contents on the counter. With no dishwasher, getting all this clean and dry would take a while, but she refused to cook until it was all up to her standards. At least they had their own bedding in the bedroom, but the mattress had seen much better days.

She became so immersed in her task that when Athos reappeared, she hadn’t noticed he’d been gone nearly half an hour. His face was ashen, and she put her hand at her throat, preparing for bad news. “What happened? Die someone die?” 

“No.”

She took his arm. “Come and sit down. You look awful.”

He sat heavily on the sofa. “It’s _Maman_. She has cancer. Ovarian. And it’s spread.”

“Oh love. I’m so sorry.”

He swallowed. “They found out yesterday, and she went in for an emergency hysterectomy. He said stage three, but I don’t know what that means. She’s in a hospital in Périgueux. They’ll give her chemotherapy which they hope will put her into remission, but….”

She wrapped her arms around him. “Are you going down there?”

“ _Papa_ said not to. She’s quite unwell and unable to cope with visitors. She’ll take a couple of months to heal, so he’s suggesting we go there for Xmas. Would your mother mind?”

“Of course not. Uh, but will—”

“Thomas and Anne will be there,” he said tonelessly. “I don’t care. I need to see her, Constance.”

She stroked his cheek. “Of course you do. What can you do now?”

“Nothing. Not even flowers.” He swallowed again.

“What about a card? She’d like that.”

“Yes, I suppose so. I’ll buy one tomorrow.” He hung his head. “ _Papa_ was crying. I’ve never heard that in my whole life.”

“You don’t think you could help him in the house?”

“He doesn’t need me. They have a housekeeper and _Maman_ can have a nurse when she comes home, and…I wouldn’t have the first idea how to help him.” He turned stricken eyes to her. “I was supposed to work at Xmas, let other people go home. Porthos was going to stay at d’Artagnan’s. I never thought...I mean, we can go to your mother’s anytime. But he specifically asked. It could be her last one.”

“Then you need to tell your boss that. Porthos and d’Artagnan have just been south for their wedding. He’ll understand.”

Athos nodded. “Yes, he....” He covered his face with his hands and heaved in a deep breath. Constance held onto him, listening to him trying not to cry. If the situation was reversed, she’d be sobbing like a child, but Athos didn’t believe in inflicting his emotions on other people.

“Come and lie down with me, love,” she murmured. 

“But supper.”

“Takeaway. One benefit of living here, right?”

She led him to their bedroom, and curled around him as he stared at the ceiling. “Don’t be ashamed to cry for your mother, Athos.”

"I don't want to cry for her, I want to do something. Help her."

"Heal her."

"Yes."

She rested her hand over his heart. "Might not be possible. But you can do the research and work out the best way to help, and understand what she's going through."

He threw his arm over his eyes. "They don't want my help."

"They'll want your love, though. You can give them that."

"She's going to die, and I can't stop it."

"She might not die from this. The important thing is that she's still alive and you can help her enjoy that.”

He turned his head and cupped her face. "Yes," he said, and kissed her.

"Do you want the boys to know?” He didn't answer, just kept looking into her eyes and stroked her face. "Sylvie's mum died of breast cancer. She might have some advice for you."

He rolled away. "Or it might bring all the memories back."

"Unless you're going to keep it a secret, that'll happen anyway. I could ring her tomorrow."

"Might be best. God I want a drink." Constance didn't say anything, not wanting to judge or encourage him in this. "Don't worry, I won't." He kissed her again, moved off the bed. "In fact, let's get on. There's no point in whining."

He walked out of the bedroom. Constance sat up, wondering how these people she had never met could have raised a son so unwilling to accept help, to understand it was okay to feel grief over this. She sighed and stood. Even if Athos believed he should always be the strong one, she would support him the best she could. There was no shame in needing kindness.

***********************

The degree of Athos’s gratitude for Constance’s love and comfort was so great, he had no words to express it. Didn’t have them even before he was injured. All he could do was hold her and kiss her and try to show that he really did appreciate her for standing with him. Then it was off to work.

Porthos was in a quiet mood that morning, something Athos was loath to interrupt, but even in that introspection, his friend noticed something was up. Athos didn’t force him to ask. “My mother is tired.” He frowned. What was the word?

“Sick?”

“Yes. She has cancer.”

“Oh jeez, Athos.” Porthos’s hand landed on his shoulder, wordless comfort Athos had always loved. “Bad?”

“Pretty bad. _Papa_ wants me to come home for Xmas.”

“Yeah, of course. You gotta.”

“But the roster has already been done—”

“Yeah, so we swap. Simple.”

“Won’t d’Artagnan mind? It’s your first Xmas as a couple.”

Porthos shook his head. “Yeah, and there will be lots more of them. Go. We’ll square it with the boss.”

“Thank you. I would never ask, but....”

“I know you wouldn’t, mate. It’s important. It’s your mother.”

Athos’s throat closed and he couldn’t answer. It was all he could do to restrain himself from going to the airport and flying down to the Dordogne immediately.

However, he had a job to do, and he would do it. He spoke to Treville as soon as he had the opportunity, accepted the sympathy and permission to swap with Porthos over Xmas, then refused to talk about it at work with anyone, even Porthos. Though Porthos understood the need for reticence at a difficult time, and didn’t press. Only on the train home did he ask, “Is there anything we can do to help?”

“Just be you.”

“I can do that,” Porthos said with one of his lovely smiles. “Does Aramis know?”

“Constance called Sylvie early. I wouldn’t involve her given her pregnancy and her mother, but she’d find out.”

“Then she’d be pissed off that you tried to keep it a secret.”

Athos nodded. It was good sometimes to have friends who knew him—and each other—so well.

“2016 has really sucked. I mean, except me getting married, and Aramis getting married, and you and Constance getting engaged.”

“Those are big exceptions,” Athos said.

“Yeah, ain’t they,” Porthos cheerfully agreed.

Athos sent a card as Constance suggested, and kept in touch with his father while his mother remained in hospital. She stayed for two weeks, then became an outpatient. He sent flowers twice, and spoke to her on the phone, but she was weak and tired and couldn’t follow a conversation for too long. His father insisted Athos remain in Paris and only come down for the Xmas/New Year period. “She really wants that way, son.”

“Very well, _Papa_. Is there anything—”

“No, there really isn’t. You’re bringing your young lady?”

“Is that all right?”

“Claire wants to meet her. You will be civil towards Thomas, won’t you?”

“Certainly, _Papa_.” Athos was offended by the very suggestion. It wasn’t _him_ who had behaved badly.

“Good. Your mother liked the flowers.”

“I’ll send more.”

“Don’t overdo it, Athos. It reminds her of the situation.”

“Of course.”

Although how she could forget when Athos was incapable of doing so even for five minutes, he didn’t know.

Meanwhile Constance had started her studies, shadowed every day by two police officers. Philippe Fèron’s henchmen had not been found, and while it wouldn’t necessarily fatally damage the case against him and Lucien Grimaud if Athos and Constance were to suffer a terrible accident and be unable to testify, it would make their defence team’s life easier. And since the two of them had been so ruthlessly efficient in destroying witnesses or their testimony in the past, Organised Crime and Captain Treville were both determined they wouldn’t get another chance. Athos was restricted to desk duties until the trial, a fact which would have depressed him except he had something much worse to worry about.

Without Constance he would have gone mad with worry and grief, so he took care to keep his relationship with her healthy and happy. Even before the news about _Maman_ , there was potential for strain—juggling her studies, the café and his job, the attempt on their lives, and being forced to hide under protection as a result. They could do nothing about the dreary safe house stuck out in the nineteenth arrondissement except clean it, but Athos could and did make sure when their free time coincided, that Constance had the opportunity to get out, see friends, and share beauty with them or him, whether in Paris or in Antony. Never one for going to restaurants or fancy food before, he now made the effort to take her out at least once a week somewhere nice, to buy the ingredients for a good meal he usually cooked himself, or just to buy a cake or other treat they could enjoy together. 

She protested she didn’t need pampering, but he ignored that because her year had been as ghastly as his, if not more. He didn’t miss how much more relaxed she was when, three weeks before Xmas, they were able to move to the family apartment in the Latin quarter, which was not only lovely but close to where Constance was finishing her degree. He’d had no conscience about asking Thomas and Anne to move. He considered they both owed him at least that much, after everything they’d put him through.

He couldn’t even think about the trial which would, he hoped, end their exile from Antony, or to fret about the divorce proceedings. Yes, he wanted to marry Constance as soon as possible. But more than that, he wanted his mother to be alive to see it, and until he was allowed to go home to visit her, he couldn’t be confident she would be.

The one thing that brought them unalloyed pleasure was meeting up with their four closest friends in Antony, usually at _Le Roitelet_. It was there Athos and Constance felt safest, when the frustrations of their exile could be set aside, and they could assure themselves that Sylvie and her unborn child were both doing well. Their police shadows came with them, of course, but with two cops, and an ex-Army officer turned paramedic, not to mention a fit and capable offsider to that paramedic in attendance, Philippe Fèron would have a real fight on his hands to do them harm. It didn’t mean he wouldn’t _try_ , but Athos clung to the hope that the man and his thugs would prefer easier pickings. 

Naturally, he shared none of these thoughts with Constance. She had enough nightmares to deal with already.


	2. Chapter 2

“Aramis, take a deep breath.”

“Why?”

“Just do it, okay?”

Sylvie waited until she heard her husband obey. “Okay. Well, I’m in labour. I’ve been having contractions since after you left this morning, but now I’m sure.”

“ _Madre de Dios_!”

“Calm down, darling.” She took her own advice before continuing. “Your mother’s driving me to hospital now, and you should take your time coming back.”

“Your cervix? How often are the contractions?”

“How the hell would I know, and five minutes.” She didn’t mention her water had broken too. “Now, call Constance please. She said she wanted to be here. You meet with her and come back from Paris _together_.”

“What if she can’t get free for hours, _querida_?”

Aramis’s mother, Isabella, opened the back passenger door on their car, and Sylvie eased herself in. She had already showered and eaten before she’d called him, and the bag for the hospital had been packed for ages. Isabella had had five children, and her advice and help over the last week had been wonderful. It was only thanks to her that Sylvie hadn’t panicked when her water broke.

“She’ll come.” Sylvie kept her tone calm despite her own anxiety, because when Aramis lapsed into random Spanish and his voice got all squeaky, he was really stressed. “You have hours and hours, I promise you.”

“You’ll call?”

“Your mum will if I can’t. But now she needs to concentrate, so I’ll call you when I get there and admitted. Breathe, darling. Breathe.”

“ _Te amo_ , Sylvie. Can’t wait to meet the gosling.”

“Me too. Call you soon.” She hung up. “Okay, _Mamá_ , let’s go.”

“He’s losing his mind already, isn’t he?” Isabella said cheerfully. “Pierre was just the same. All strapped in?”

“ _Si, Mamá_.”

They arrived at the maternity hospital just before five, and upon examination, the midwife considered she should stay, though she could go home if she really wished. “No, I’m here now,” Sylvie said, gritting her teeth through another contraction. “ _Mamá_ , you’ll handle your son?”

“Of course. I’ve been doing it for thirty-seven years.”

Sylvie grinned. “You’re the expert.”

The midwife helped her settle in, showed her how to use the gas mouthpiece, and encouraged her to move around, and use whatever positions and equipment she felt most comfortable in. There was a birthing stool and birthing ball to help. The midwife also encouraged her to have another shower if she wanted, since the warmth was soothing. Sylvie and Constance had extensively researched all the options, and Sylvie had decided a standing birth looked like the best one, if she could manage it. She’d been using a birthing ball and practicing positions with Aramis and Constance, and even d’Artagnan a couple of times. No more dry runs now.

_Showtime._

***********************

Constance had kept a firm grip on Aramis’s arm for the entire journey from Paris, and as they exited the taxi in front of the maternity hospital, Athos grabbed his other arm. “Guys, I’m fine.”

“Yes,” Athos said, not relaxing his grip.

“We want you to stay that way,” Constance said, grinning at her partner. “And not upset your lovely wife, or yourself.”

“I _am_ a medical professional.”

“You’re a first time father with a wife in labour,” Athos said, “and therefore considered to be insane until proven otherwise.”

“That’s just rude, Athos.”

“Is it?”

Constance laughed. Athos was enjoying himself.

She took charge of locating Sylvie’s room, and then Aramis was taken there, without being allowed to break free and rush to Sylvie’s side. They found Sylvie on her feet, leaning on the bed, with Aramis’s mum massaging her back. “Ah, son, come over and make yourself useful.”

Aramis eagerly took Isabella’s place. Constance leaned in and kissed Sylvie’s cheek. “How are you, darling?”

“Fine,” she gritted out. She waited for the contraction to pass. “God, this bit is no fun. Hello, Athos. Go away. I love you but you are not having a look at my vagina.”

“I’m not here for your vagina, love. I’m here for Aramis. Constance is here to stare at your pink bits.”

“There are too many people in here,” Isabella scolded. “A mother needs privacy.”

“This mother needs to move,” Sylvie said, straightening up with a groan. “Aramis, go get something to eat with Athos. It’ll be a long wait, so take an hour at least. _Mamá_ , why don’t you go with them? Constance, do you fancy a walk?”

Constance urged her lover to take Aramis away with his mother, and then gave Sylvie her arm. “Is it bad?” she asked as Sylvie began to walk slowly towards the door.

“Yeah. But it’s okay. Like really bad period pain.”

“Bad enough. This could take all night.”

“I know. Or even all tomorrow,” Sylvie said with a groan.

“It’s okay. We have the shifts all worked out. When Isabella wants to get some sleep, I’ll stay with Aramis, or Athos will. We won’t crowd you, I promise.”

“I don’t mind so long as no one looks at my twat.”

Constance giggled. “I don’t particularly want to look at it. Now you set the pace, okay?”

Over the next twelve hours, either Constance or Isabella stayed with Sylvie, helping her move around, sit when she needed to, massaging her when she wanted on. Aramis was there too, but Athos made sure to take him away every so often for a break so his stress didn’t infect Sylvie. They all worked to help her stay relaxed and confident, and to cope with the pain. She was determined not to have an epidural, or even pethidine, because she wanted to give birth standing, or at least sitting.

It was tiring for all of them, most of all for Sylvie, and by four in the morning, she lay down on the bed on her side for a rest. Aramis sat with her then while Athos and Constance and Isabella went off for coffee. “ Good practice for you,” Isabella said. “Now you won’t be so scared of your first.”

“No,” Constance agreed, without mentioning that any child she had in the future would not be her first. Athos squeezed her fingers under the table for comfort. 

“Three hours,” Isabella said. “She’ll have the child first thing in the morning.”

“How do you know?” Athos asked.

“Women’s intuition,” Isabella said deadpan. Constance grinned at her lover's barely concealed eye-roll.

However, the mother five times over was right. Within an hour of them coming back to her room, Sylvie went into the third stage of labour, so Constance and Athos cleared out, while Isabella kept to the back of the room. The midwife and Aramis took over, and however nervous he had been before, Aramis was now nothing but the calm, confident professional as he helped deliver his own child.

Constance and Athos came back to the doorway just as the baby was emerging, so just before seven am, they watched as a pink yelling blob of humanity was set on Sylvie’s stomach, and Aramis kissed her forehead. “We have a daughter, my love.”

Athos hugged Constance and kissed her. “Good work, darling. No minds or children were lost.”

Constance burst into tears.

***********************

Athos turned his lover to face him and held her closer. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to upset—"

"I'm not upset," she said, still sobbing. "I'm happy."

"And a little upset," Athos murmured, rubbing her back. He looked up and found the four occupants of Sylvie's room staring at the two of them.

Sylvie beckoned to him, and Aramis copied her. Athos led Constance to Sylvie's bedside. "Constance, we want you to meet our daughter," Aramis said. "Berthe Isabelle d’Herblay-Boden."

Still weeping, Constance accepted the squalling infant from her father, and held her carefully in her arms. "She's gorgeous," Constance choked out.

"She is," Athos agreed. "Congratulations, all three of you." He bent and kissed Sylvie's cheek, then stood and did the same to Aramis. "It was an honour to be here."

" _Madame_ , _monsieur_ , Sylvie has a little more to do," the midwife said, and Athos remembered the placenta had to come out as well. "If you both and Grand- _maman_ would like to have breakfast, we'll sort that out, and little Berthe can be checked over." She took the baby from Constance and gave her back to Sylvie. " _Maman_ might like a rest too."

"She really does," Sylvie said, smiling tiredly at them all.

"Come on, love," Athos said to Constance. "Coffee and food. Isabella?"

Constance had calmed down by the time they reached the canteen, though Isabella was still concerned. "Perhaps you two should go home."

"Soon," Athos said, holding Constance's hand tight. "You and Aramis should get some rest too."

"Soon," she said, smiling at him. "My first grand-daughter.”

"May she be as beautiful and wise as her mother."

Athos texted Porthos, who would give them a lift back to his place for a few hours’ sleep before they returned to Paris under police protection. Fèron had made their lives so complicated. Every excursion outside their apartment was like a military operation.

PorthosDV: _Tell S &A congrats, love the name, love you all_

Constance finished her coffee and croissant in silence, then straightened up. "We should go," she murmured, turning her face into Athos’s shoulder.

"Would you explain?" he asked Aramis's mother. "They're in good hands."

"Yes, indeed. Go, go, and thank you."

Athos made Constance stay inside the building until Porthos let him know he was waiting in visitor pick-up. Porthos covered them while Athos hurried Constance from the building and into his car.

“I hate all this. Who would kidnap us at this time of the morning?”

“Someone who is well paid, love.” Athos kissed her. “You all right?”

“Mmmm, tired.”

“I’m going in after I drop you off,” Porthos said. “Boss told me to tell you to take the day.”

“I’ll be in after lunch,” Athos said. He wanted to conserve as much leave as possible.

“He’ll be cranky.”

“Yes.”

“Aramis cope okay?”

“Like a pro. Eventually.”

Porthos laughed. “Yeah, I can imagine it. Sylvie is a saint.”

“ _Mamá_ d’Herblay is, you mean.”

“Her too.”

Porthos stood guard as Athos and Constance entered his building, then drove off to the train station. “You can have the shower first,” Constance said. “You need more sleep than I do.”

“You’re not going to classes this afternoon?”

“No.”

Athos frowned, confused, but patted her shoulder and went to use the bathroom. They kept supplies of spare clothes and toiletries at Porthos and d’Artagnan’s home now, since they usually spent the night there when they visited Antony, and they’d known the baby was coming.

Constance was already curled up in bed when he emerged. He wrapped himself around her and waited. If she wanted to tell him, he would listen. Otherwise she would tell him when she was ready.

She didn’t speak for ages, and Athos was drifting asleep when she said, “I didn’t know how I’d feel. I still don’t. I’m happy, I’m grieving, my guts are in a knot.”

He kissed the back of her neck. “Sounds normal.”

“I’m so scared it’ll mean I can’t be around them.”

“Give yourself time. Worked for me.”

“I guess. The baby is beautiful.”

“Yes.” A messy wonder. “You did so well. I’m proud of you.”

“I didn’t do much. Isabella did everything.”

“I was right there, love. I saw. You were wonderful.”

She rolled over into his arms. “You too. I can’t face going to classes today. I feel so raw.”

“I understand.”

“Stupid, really.”

“No.” He stared at her until she smiled a little. “Sleep. It’ll help.”

“Love you.”

He pressed his lips against her forehead. “You, always.” 


	3. Chapter 3

Sylvie handed her crying daughter over to Constance. “She’ll settle down. She always yells after I’ve changed her nappy, as if it’s a mortal insult.”

Constance grinned. “So it’s not just you who doesn’t want strangers looking at her lady bits. Shhh, Berthe, you’re all right.”

Sure enough, Berthe settled, blinking up at this new person handling her without alarm. “You’re a natural,” Sylvie said.

“Hope so. I hope I can find out soon.”

They went back to the living room where Sylvie had set the tea out. “It’s so good to see you. I didn’t know if you’d make it before Xmas or not.”

“It took a bit of juggling. Athos apologises for not being able to make it. He’s doing extra shifts because he feels guilty taking time off over the Xmas period.”

“Silly man. It’s not like this isn’t important. But he’ll come after the holidays, yes?”

“Oh yes. He’s desperate to see her again. You know, I think my fiancé might be just a little bit desperate to have a baby of his own.”

“That’s adorable,” Sylvie said, easing herself back on the sofa. “Ow.”

“Still sore?”

“Yeah. Thank God _Mamá_ will be around for another week. When is the trial?”

“April,” Constance said, her mouth turning down. “So sick of this. I love Paris but I miss my life here. The apartment is lovely but it’s not ours. And there’s the fact I can’t do a damn thing outside it without having to tell the police so they can protect me.”

“Better that than dead in a ditch.”

“Of course. I don’t complain to Athos because it’s a pain for him too, and he’s got his mum on his mind now. Being under protection is trivial compared to his mum being so ill. I wish his dad was a bit less standoffish. Athos would have flown down there a week ago if his dad had let him.”

Sylvie winced in sympathy. “It’s hard, but they have to think about her. If she doesn’t have the energy, there’s no point and he’ll just be upset by it. Sounds like his mother wants him to have good memories of the time left to her.”

“He’s going to end up having a heart attack from stress. He talks about it sometimes, but mostly he just pushes on with something else, like his exercises, or work. I look at him, and I know he’s thinking about it, but if I ask, he shakes his head. I don’t think he knows what to do.”

“Poor love. It’ll help when he sees her, you know. At the moment he’s imagining the worst. You fly this weekend?”

“Yes, gone for two weeks, the whole of my Uni break. I want to be here with you, though. With his mum and his bloody brother and the bloody _wife_ , I’m sure it’ll be horrible.” 

Constance gave her little finger to Berthe to suck on. Sylvie pulled out her phone and took a photo of the two of them. “My phone has about a thousand photos of her on it already,” she admitted.

“By the third baby, you’ll be, ‘Eh, they all look the same, why bother?’”

Sylvie laughed. “Probably. Anyway, I’m going to enjoy this one as much as I can before the training wheels come off and I’m left on my own with her.”

Aramis and his mother came home an hour later, and Constance stayed for lunch. Her ease around Berthe and Sylvie herself was a great relief to Sylvie. She’d been afraid Constance wouldn’t be able to cope with the reality of a live baby after what she’d been through, but all the evidence was that she was fine now.

“She will be the best aunty and I can’t wait for her to be back in Antony,” Sylvie said to Aramis that night. “It’s Athos I’m worried about.” They had to whisper because Berthe was sharing the room in a second-hand crib. They had been given so much stuff from Aramis’s sisters and even from d’Artagnan, they’d hardly had to buy a thing beyond nappies and formula.

“Yes, he’s not coping, Porthos says. He’d be doing much worse without Constance though. Things will get worse before they get better, I’m afraid.”

“I wish I could help.”

“You will,” her husband said.

“I miss them. Constance said that even after the trial, they could be stuck in Paris for another six months, if there’s an appeal.”

“Oh no.” Aramis grimaced. “This whole situation is dreadful for them.”

“Yeah. I don’t like feeling helpless.”

“I think that’s Athos’s problem too. Anyway, we’ll see them after Xmas and we can do what we can then.”

_Mamá_ had been gradually reducing the amount of help she gave Sylvie directly with Berthe, though she still helped with the cooking. Her main role was to answer questions and give Sylvie confidence to do it herself. Aramis was learning too, though he had more experience of babies coming from a large family with sisters who had children of their own. Sylvie had none of that, and without Isabella’s help, she would have been frantic.

All too soon, the time came for _Mamá_ to go to the airport, and after that Sylvie and Aramis would be flying on their own. Sylvie hugged the woman who had become as dear to her as her own late mother had been. “I can never thank you enough, _Mamá_.”

“Nonsense, _cariño_. Now, you call if you need to. Anytime, night or day.”

“I will. We’ll miss you.”

“Of course. But you will come to Madrid soon with the _niña_ , and it will be wonderful. _Buena suerte!_ ”

Sylvie shed a few tears once she was alone with Berthe in the apartment. She really would miss Isabella. She missed her mum more than ever too.

***********************

Athos’s father had insisted on paying for his son and fiancée to fly to Périgueux, and for a hire car for the two weeks they would be in the Dordogne. That Athos had accepted without demur told Constance more than anything else could, how desperate he was to get down there and see his mother. He had clutched her hand for the entire flight, his mouth set and grim, and when she suggested she drove to the house, he let her without a single protest. Before she set off, she hugged him hard and kissed him. “Love, it won’t be as bad as you fear, I’m sure.”

He began to shake in her arms. “I don’t think I can hold it together.”

“You will. I’ll help. Breathe for me. Pretend you’re Sylvie on the birth ball.”

That startled a laugh out of him, though his smile disappeared fast. “You shouldn’t use that metaphor around _Papa_.”

“I will if I have to. I’ll be there every second, and remember, they love you.”

“Yes.” He inhaled and exhaled noisily, then did it again. “Okay. Ready.”

“Okay.”

They had escaped police protection for the holidays because his parents’ house had good security including full time estate guards, and they’d agreed to let the local cops know if and when they left the house. It didn’t mean there was no risk of being attacked, but the risk was acceptably low, and Athos didn’t want to be having with all that and his mother’s illness over the holidays. Constance didn’t regret that part of it in the least.

The estate lay outside Périgueux, between there and Bergerac. Constance had no idea what to expect, other than ‘a big house’ as Athos had described it. The reality was much more amazing than anything she could have imagined. At the somewhat terrifying gates, their identification was inspected carefully, and their presence announced, before she was allowed to drive on up a long, snowy road. 

Another pair of guards greeted them as she stopped in front of the house, and a man in a chauffeur’s uniform came out and held the door open for her. “Welcome, _Monsieur_ Athos, _Madame_ Bonacieux. I will attend to the car and bring your luggage to your room.”

“Thank you, Paul,” Athos said as he stepped out of the car. He came around and took Constance’s hand. “This way, darling.”

“Athos, this is...you said big.”

He turned to her. “It is big.”

“Yeah, but this is... _big_.”

He managed a smile. “I suppose it is. Come on, it’s too cold to stand out here.”

A woman in a smart pair of grey trousers and jacket opened the door for them. “Welcome, _monsieur_ , _madame_. I am Kate, the housekeeper.” To Constance’s surprise, she had an English accent.

“Nice to meet you, Kate,” Athos said. “My parents?”

“This way, _monsieur_.”

Constance followed Athos and the housekeeper, trying not to gawp like some country bumpkin. It wasn’t that the house was extravagantly decorated—it felt like a home people really lived in rather than some grand stately home—but there was just so much of it. Her mother’s house would fit inside the main hall with room to spare. 

Athos paid no attention to her wonder, rushing on to get to his mother. Kate opened a pair of oak doors, and ushered them through to an elegant drawing room. “ _Madame_ , _monsieur_ , _Monsieur_ Athos and _Madame_ Bonacieux.”

Athos walked over to the sofa where a woman sat with a rug over her knees. He crouched beside her. “ _Maman_ ,” Constance heard him say, then the two of them bent their heads together and the rest of the world was forgotten.

She stood there, wondering what she should do, and jumped when a man approached from behind. “ _Madame_ Bonacieux, how nice to meet you.”

He held his hand out and she shook it. Athos’s dad, Olivier de la Fère, she realised. “It’s just Constance, _monsieur_ , and I am so very glad to meet you.”

“Please, do come and sit.” He led her to a set of armchairs a little way away from Athos and his mother. “Did you have an easy journey?”

“Yes, thank you. Very kind of you to make it simple for us.”

He smiled without it reaching his sad eyes. Green eyes, like his son’s. “The least we could do, of course. Would you like a cup of coffee?”

“Yes, please. Or tea. Anything, really.”

He looked up. “Kate, tea and coffee, please.”

“Yes, _monsieur_.”

He sat back in the chair. He was sixty-seven, so Athos had told her, and only retired the year before, though they had bought this house some six years previously. He was tall and straight-backed, with a full head of grey hair, and the same nose as his son. He bore the same air of melancholy that his son had worn since he’d had the news of his mother’s illness. “I understand you own a café, Constance.”

“Yes, _monsieur_. But at the moment I am finishing my journalism degree.”

“Ah yes.” His eyes drifted over to where his son was still crouched by his mother’s side. “You intend to practice journalism?”

“I hope to, yes. I’m getting my feet wet already. Your house is lovely.”

“We like it, yes.”

He fell silent, and Constance racked her brains on what she could talk about with a retired former army officer turned lawyer and businessman who came from more money than her family had had since the middle ages. “Um....”

“Excuse me one moment, please.”

He rose and went to his wife’s side, speaking in a low voice to her. Athos suddenly remembered Constance was in the room, and mouthed ‘Sorry’ at her. She shrugged. She understood completely.

“Ah, Constance, please do come over and meet my wife, Claire.”

She walked over and held out her hand. “I’m Constance, _madame_. So pleased to meet you.”

Athos’s mother was tiny, and looked terribly frail. The silk scarf around her head emphasised the delicate shape of her skull, and her hand in Constance’s felt like a baby bird. “I am so glad to meet _you_ , Constance. I apologise for my son’s poor manners.”

“ _Maman_ ,” Athos murmured.

“It’s all right, _madame_. He has been so very worried about you.”

The atmosphere suddenly went cold. It had been the wrong thing to say. “There is nothing to worry about, Constance,” she said with aristocratic formality. “I am quite well, for the moment.”

“Yes, of course. I just meant...we live so far away.”

Athos’s father made a small grunt and retreated to the armchairs. Constance was lost for what to do, until Claire patted the sofa next to her. “Come and sit, my dear. Athos, darling, you can sit beside her.”

Constance obeyed, and found herself being examined by a pair of blue, sharply intelligent eyes. “How long have you known Athos?”

“A year and a bit, _madame_. He was one of my customers.”

“At the café.”

“Yes, _madame_.” Athos took her hand but did nothing to rescue her.

“And then your husband died.”

“Yes, _madame_. He was murdered.”

Claire’s expression betrayed no shock. “And you and Athos became...attached after this?”

“Yes. Not before. We were friends. Athos was very kind to me after Jacques’s death. The romance came later.”

“I see. And do you enjoy living in Paris?”

“Not particularly. I spent several years there, as a student then running a business with my husband. We sold that advantageously, and were able to buy a new one in Antony, where I prefer to live.” Constance realised Claire thought she wanted Athos for his _money_. “I still own the café and the apartment above it. We plan to buy a larger apartment in Antony when we marry. Though being allowed to live in the Paris apartment is greatly appreciated, of course.”

Claire nodded, not revealing the slightest hint of her thoughts. Like mother, like son. “You come from a large family, Athos says?”

“Yes, _madame_. My father died four years ago of an aneurysm, but my mother lives in Normandy as do my four brothers.”

“And what do they do for a living?”

If this was anyone else interrogating her, Constance would have told them to shove it. But she understood. Not only was Athos her oldest son, his previous wife had betrayed him horribly. Now this woman they had never met, not even widowed, popped up engaged to their boy. “ _Maman_ is a teacher. Two of my brothers are in IT, one’s a doctor, and the other one is a teacher too. _Papa_ was also a teacher. Science.”

“A family with brains.”

“All but me, I’m afraid.”

Athos spoke. “That’s a perfect lie, _maman_. Constance is frighteningly bright. And brave.”

“I’m sure.” Claire smiled a little. “I’m sorry, my dear. You must think me rude.”

“No, _madame_. I think you care.”

Son and mother both smiled then. “She’ll do, Athos.”

“Yes, she will.”

Kate returned with a tray, on which sat a coffee pot, teapot and biscuits. “Coffee for me,” Athos said.

“Tea for me,” Claire said, and Constance echoed her. Athos’s father came over to join them.

“Thomas and Anne will be here after lunch,” he said as he sat down. Athos nodded, not reacting. “Constance, I’m afraid you may find this very dull. Do you ride?”

She nearly spat out her tea. “Horses?” she squeaked. She coughed and recovered her composure. “No, _monsieur_. At least, I’ve never attempted to.”

“Then you must teach her, Athos. There are some very good paths around here, quite safe.”

“In the snow, _Papa_?”

“Become soft living in the city, son?”

Athos tilted his head and set his jaw. Constance tensed, waiting for a fight. “We chase villains on horseback all the time in Paris, _Papa_. Only with my weak leg, they make me use a tricycle.”

His father looked at him, a smile slowly growing. Claire grinned. “Olivier, don’t be unkind. Constance, you don’t have to ride.”

“I’d like to try, but I really have no experience.”

“We have a young groom, Luc Brujon, who’s very good with horses and nervous riders. If Athos isn’t up to it, Brujon can teach you.”

“Sounds like fun,” she lied. Athos smirked at her. She felt like throwing a cushion at him.

Once they had finished their refreshment, Athos's father asked Kate to take them up to their room. Constance boggled at the size of it. "People really live like this?”

Athos took her into his arms. "Some do."

"Did you?"

"Yes. But I don't need to."

"Your mother suspects I'm a gold-digger."

"You are not. I know that. Sorry about all that."

She leaned her forehead against his chest. "It's fine. It's not surprising she's suspicious, considering."

" _Maman_ is just wary."

Constance nodded and wandered over to the window to look at the snowy landscape. "I gather we are not to mention the war."

"No. She wants us to be as normal as possible, in the circumstances."

"Don't blame her. She must be sick of thinking about it."

"Yes." He cuddled her from behind. " _Do_ you want to learn to ride?" 

"Why not? You'll be with your mum. I can keep myself busy, and it might be fun."

"I don't want you to feel unwelcome with us."

She turned and smiled. "I don't. I'll follow your lead. Um...Anne?”

He sighed. "She'll behave. I'm more worried about Thomas. He can be...impetuous. With _Maman_ ill, I don't know how he'll behave."

"Surely he'll respect her wishes."

"Thomas does what Thomas wants. He’s rather spoiled. He was a pretty child, had winning ways. Not like me."

"I like your ways."

"You haven't met him."

She scowled and cupped his chin. "Met the man who stole away his badly injured brother's wife while his brother was struggling to recover? No, and I don't want to. I'm here for you, for her. Not Thomas. I'll be polite. Don't ask me to like him."

"I won't. I don't. I'm only warning you."

"Warning accepted. But he better not start in on either of us."

"Constance, _Maman_ won't like us fighting with him. Please."

"I won't fight. But I won't be walked over."

"That's fair." He swung her around. "Want to try the bed before lunch?"

"Sex? In your parents' house?"

"I'm not making love in the snow, _madame_."

"Bed it is then."


	4. Chapter 4

Aramis looked at the letter delivered that morning while he'd driven his mother to the airport. It was one for him, redirected from his parents' house. He tore it open as he walked into the living room. "How's the gosling?" He bent and kissed Sylvie, who was breastfeeding Berthe.

"Hungry. Who's the letter from?"

He checked the envelope. No name, just a Paris address. He pulled the letter out and checked the signature. Then he quickly read the letter, looked at the enclosed photos, and felt the ground falling away from under his feet.

He heard Sylvie calling his name. He gripped the back of the sofa, put his wrist over his eyes, tried to come back to himself.

"Aramis!"

He managed to straighten up. "I'm fine," he managed to say, then stumbled over to the table still clutching the letter.

"Aramis, what's wrong?" Sylvie joined him at the table and grabbed his hand. She still had Berthe on her other arm, suckling. 

"Give me a minute, please."

"Is it bad news?"

He swallowed. "Not exactly." He thrust the letter at her. "You may as well read it."

Frowning, she pulled it over and scanned it. Then she stared at him. "You have a son."

"Do I? I...Sylvie, I...it's been six years,nearly seven. How can...why now?"

She waved the letter at him. "Because her husband's dead and she's still in love with you!”

She slammed the letter down on the table, got up and walked into the spare room, now nursery. Aramis didn't move. He had no idea what to do, and that wasn't a emotion he had any experience with.

***********************

Lunch with Athos's parents was a formal affair, but it was fun for all that. Claire had the same sardonic humour as her son, and while Athos's dad—whom Constance still addressed as " _monsieur_ " without ever being invited to call him by his first name—didn't joke around at _all_ , he obviously enjoyed listening to his son and wife banter in a dry, subtle manner that outsiders might miss completely.

It was all so pleasant she convinced herself these two weeks would be fine. Unfortunately after Kate announced " _Monsieur_ Thomas and _Madame_ Anne", Constance quickly discovered the reason Athos always become withdrawn and frowny whenever the subject of his family came up.

“Athos, bring them through to the drawing room, would you?” his father said, all smiles gone. “Claire?”

Athos waited until his parents left, before grimacing at Constance. “Shall we?”

Despite what Athos had said before, Constance had been steeling herself to meet the ex, not the brother. But when the two of them walked in, Constance instantly recognised Anne de la Fère was in an unhappy relationship she couldn't or wouldn't leave. The weak smile, the way she ducked her head when she spoke, the appeasing looks she gave Thomas were all achingly familiar to Constance. This was not what she had expected, at all.

Whether she was being abused, Constance couldn't tell, but Thomas was either unaware or unconcerned his partner was miserable. He was equally unbothered as to whether Athos felt uncomfortable with the situation, embracing his brother in a bear hug. 

"Athos! It's been too long,"

Even Anne's eyes widened in shock at that, and Constance literally bit her tongue not saying, “And whose fault is that?" 

Athos smiled in his thin, displeased way. "Thomas, this is Constance Bonacieux. My fiancée."

Thomas bounced over to Constance and grabbed her hand. "So great to meet you! I'm glad Athos has finally found someone he loves."

Constance froze, and it was Anne who tugged him away, murmuring in his ear. He shook her off. "No, look it's fine," he said. "We're all adults. You two are divorced now, and Athos loves someone else. Do we have to spend two weeks pretending otherwise?"

Anne stepped back, expression blank. Athos came over and put his hand on his brother's shoulder. "No, we don't. Anne, how are you?"

“Fine, thank you. We...Thomas should go to your mother."

"Yes." Athos turned to Kate who was hovering, waiting. "I'll take him in. Perhaps Anne might like tea in her room?"

"Athos, Anne and I could have tea or coffee together. There must be somewhere nice to sit."

Athos looked at Constance, reading her expression. "Kate, the rear living room with the big fireplace, is it ready?"

"Yes, _monsieur_. I was going to set the fire."

"Sounds lovely," Constance said. "Anne?"

"If you like."

Athos nodded. "I'll find you."

"This way, _mesdames_.”

Kate led them through the house to a room facing the gently rolling hills to the back of the property, and quickly set to making the fire. Anne stood with her arms wrapped around her, not looking at anyone. Constance wandered over to the glass doors. How much of this belonged to the house? The idea of exploring the outdoors on a horse seemed rather appealing, provided she didn’t fall off the horse in the first place.

“There you are, _mesdames_. Would you prefer tea or coffee?”

“Tea,” Constance said.

“Coffee,” Anne answered.

Kate smiled. “I’ll bring both. _Madame_ Anne, have you eaten?”

“I’m fine. Thank you,” she added with obvious effort.

“Very well.” Kate bowed and left them on their own.

Constance came over to sit on one of the settees by the fire. “This is nice,” she said, holding her hands out.

Anne didn’t join her. “This is bloody awkward, you mean. You must hate me.”

Constance didn’t turn to look at her. “For what happened in Versailles? No. Athos explained. What a horrible thing to do to you.”

“I meant, over Athos.”

“That’s between you and him, Anne.”

The other woman sat down on the other settee, well away from Constance. “I didn’t want to come down here. His mother doesn’t like me. Well, neither of them do, much. Xmas last year was...strained. But Thomas insisted.”

“Of course he did. He needs your support.”

Was that a sneer that passed fleetingly over Anne’s exquisite face? And who was it for? “He’s been very upset.”

“So has Athos. It’s like the ground has been cut from under his feet. Seeing his mum has been good for him.” Anne didn’t answer. “Are your parents alive?”

“No. They died when I was a child.”

“I’m sorry. My father passed away a little while ago, but my mum lives in Lisieux.”

“How nice.”

Constance told herself this was good practice for interviewing people as a journalist, so carefully didn’t react to the rudeness. But perhaps she should have let the woman go up to her room as she’d wished. Constance hadn’t realised that the previous year’s visit hadn’t gone well.

“How is the new apartment?”

“Hideous. Every move we make is watched.”

“Oh, I know what that’s like. I can’t wait to go home.”

“I can’t wait to leave France.”

Constance sat up in surprise. “When are you doing that?”

“As soon as possible.” Anne stood. “I’m going up to my room. Please ask the housekeeper to bring...actually, don’t bother.”

She stalked out, and Constance was left with her mouth hanging open in surprise. Nothing about this was going at all as she had expected.

***********************

Aramis finally found the courage to go to the second bedroom. He stood in the doorway. “Please don’t be angry, love.”

Sylvie didn’t look up. “I’m not. I just didn’t want to upset this one. Here.” She held Berthe up for him to take, and once he had her, set about tidying herself up and fastening the blouse. “Put her down for her nap, please.”

Aramis did so, and when he came out, Sylvie was in the kitchen, making tea. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“Don’t be sorry. Just...explain.”

“It was a one night thing. We were at a retreat—”

“Aramis!”

“Shhh, you’ll wake Berthe. I know, I’m disgusting, etcetera etcetera, but Ana was lonely and so sad. She was desperate for a child, her marriage was in trouble and the worst thing was that she couldn’t hear God’s voice, God’s love any more. We prayed together several times, but one night, she, um....”

Sylvie raised an eyebrow. “Made you an offer you couldn’t refuse.”

Aramis winced. “Yeah, sort of. Then the retreat was over and I never saw her again.”

“So how...she’s in love with you.”

He reached over the counter and took her hands. “Re-read it. She thought she was. Not now. Now she just wants Louis to get to know me.”

Sylvie pursed her lips. “Couldn’t come at a better time, of course.”

Aramis ran his hand through his hair. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“For God’s sake, stop saying that. It’s not your fault.”

“It kind of is.”

“You not using protection is. Not this.”

“We thought she was infertile.”

“Hmpf.”

He reached for her hands, but aborted the gesture. “Do you want me to take that?”

She moved the tray away from him. “Wait, I’m hungry. What about you?”

“I could eat. _Mamá_ left some empanadas.”

Settled at the table with food and tea, Sylvie looked less upset, but still unamused by the situation. “What will you do?”

“The right thing, whatever that is. I can’t deny the boy the right to know who I am, but she’s not looking for financial support, and I haven’t got time to be his father.”

She shook her head. “No, you don’t. And he thinks his father is dead. If you suddenly turn up and say, ‘Hi, kid, everything you thought was a lie’, you’ll break his heart.”

“Then should I refuse contact?”

She bit her lip. “Maybe you could write back and say you’ll meet up with us, without the boy, and discuss it. _After_ you go back to work and _not_ alone.”

“Don’t you trust me, love?”

She pointed a finger at him. “You, I trust. Her, I don’t know at all. Don’t push me, Aramis. And do not even think about lying about any part of this. I can handle things if you’re honest. Lie, and I’m gone.”

He took her hand. “On my honour and the life of my mother.”

She rolled her eyes. “Really?”

“What else do you want?”

“A promise is all I need. I do trust you. I need some time to adjust. I wish Constance was around.”

“Me too. I’m—” She glared. “Going to fetch some cheese. Want some?”

“Yes.”

He exhaled as he walked into the kitchen. Athos had called 2016 a cursed year. Looked like he was right.

***********************

Athos sat with his father as Thomas and their mother talked together on the sofa. “Where is Anne?” _Papa_ asked _sotto voce_.

“With Constance, rear living room.”

“Alone? Is that wise?”

“They’re both adults,” Athos said, then grimaced at reminding himself of Thomas’s clanger. “They can hardly avoid each other for two weeks.”

_Papa_ nodded. While proud of Constance for taking the lead, Athos wasn’t at all sure Anne wouldn’t take the opportunity to stick the knife in. He forced himself to sit politely and wait for his mother to finish talking to Thomas. Outside it was growing dark, so he could hardly excuse himself to go for a walk with Constance, even though that was what he most wanted to do.

A few minutes later, some signal he hadn’t detected alerted _Papa_ that _Maman_ was done. “Athos, your mother usually has a little nap around now. Would you like to take her up to her room?”

“I can do that, _Papa_ ,” Thomas said.

_Maman_ allowed him to help her stand. “No, dear. You go and unpack. I’ll see you later.”

Athos took his mother’s arm. She felt frail to him, but had no great trouble walking. He wished he could ask her specific details about her treatment and her condition, but _Maman_ had been adamant that no one would talk about it over Xmas. He desperately wanted to know if her frailty was because of the operation, the chemotherapy, or the cancer, but he didn’t know how to ask, even if she would permit it.

He took her to her room, where she told him to leave her. “Now go and rescue Constance. Thomas shouldn’t have brought Anne. It wasn’t very kind of him.”

“Anne can look after herself.”

His mother gave him a piercing look. “Can she? Off you go, my dear. I asked the cook to make madeleines for our afternoon coffee, so that’s something to look forward to.”

“Yes, indeed.” He took her hand and kissed. “Have a good nap.”

She patted his cheek and headed towards her bathroom. Athos closed the door and went hunting for his beloved.

He found her in the living room, enjoying a lovely fire entirely on her own. “Where’s Anne?”

“Ran away. Want some coffee?”

He sat next to Constance and accepted the cup she poured. “What happened?”

“Nothing. She just didn’t want to be here with me. Or here at all, apparently. Thomas made her come.”

“Ah.”

She laid her head on his shoulder. “She’s not a happy woman. She’s talking about leaving France.”

“Ah.”

“Eloquent as always, darling.”

He snorted. “Sorry. Do you wish I hadn’t made you come down here?”

She sat up and poked him, which made him jump. “You did no such thing. I’m glad to be here to support you. And to meet your parents. You never told me they were such lovely people.”

“I didn’t?”

“No. In fact, you went out of your way to indicate they were ogres.”

“I did not. I just...the last three years...they did their best but....”

“It was all such a mess, they didn’t know where to start?”

He sagged. “Yes. I mean, they paid for the rehabilitation, offered to provide whatever I wanted, but they couldn’t cope with the actual change in me. _Papa_ , particularly. I know he’s sorry about that. And the thing with Anne wasn’t their fault.”

“No, that was Thomas. Is he always so...?”

“Yes,” Athos said regretfully. “Always.”

“Ugh.”

“We’ve learned to deal with it.” He put his arm around her waist. “I’ll do my best to keep you away from them.”

“I can look after myself, thank you. Apart from all that, how do you feel?”

“Better. Seeing _Maman_ did help, though neither of them will tell me a damn thing about her condition.”

“Maybe they don’t want to upset you.”

“It just makes me worry.”

“Sorry, love. This is nice though. I love this room. Where do they put the crèche?”

“I really have no idea. I suppose we’ll find out soon enough.”

She turned to face him. “You sound like you don’t know the house all that well.”

“I don’t. I’ve only been here a handful of times, and Paul is the only staff member I recognise. So we’re in the same train, you and me.”

“Boat. Yes, I guess we are. We should do some exploring.”

“I’d like that. _Papa_ will encourage you. He and _Maman_ are great walkers. Though...not now.”

“Maybe later she’ll be up to it. The surgery must have been difficult. It’s not necessarily the disease.”

“No.” But he wished he could just _ask_. 

“Meanwhile,” she said, leaning against him, “You’ve been working very hard, and been stressed as anything. You’re on holiday, so why don’t we enjoy it while we can?”

He kissed her temple. “Excellent idea.”

***********************

Sitting with Constance in front of the fire, despite the circumstances which had brought them there, was an expected and soothing pleasure. The whole year had been nothing but work under pressure, or stress of the most extreme kinds, and there had been precious little sitting and relaxing time. Ironically the week after Jacques Bonacieux’s death had been the last extended period when they had enjoyed this luxury, and back then, they hadn’t admitted their attraction to each other. Now he could hold her, kiss her, feel her weight on his side, her hand in his, her breath on his neck. By agreement, they’d left their phones in the bedroom, so were uninterrupted and left alone quite pleasantly.

He hoped that they would live long enough to enjoy a retirement where they could do this without restriction, but retirement was many years away.

“You packed your swimsuit?”

“Yes, but, Athos, it’s not swimming weather.”

“Heated pool.”

“I’d rather try horse-riding. Or is your leg too weak?”

“No idea. I haven’t tried since the injury. I’d like to.”

She smiled, her face soft and inviting in the firelight that was their only illumination. “We could have a swim after, if you like.”

“How decadent.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

The door behind them opened. “ _Madame_ , _monsieur_ , _Monsieur_ de la Fère wishes you to know that tea is served in the sitting room, if you would care to join them.”

Athos reluctantly climbed to his feet and turned to face Kate. “Thank you,” he said in English. “Where are you from, if I may ask?”

She smiled politely. “Norfolk, sir. Though other places with my job, of course.”

“Your French is excellent.”

“Thank you. I studied at school and spent time here on holidays. It’s improved since I came to work for your parents two years ago.”

“I’m sure it has. Thank you for your care of my mother.”

“It’s a pleasure, sir.”

Constance spoke a little English but was clearly not following the conversation, so Athos slipped back into French. “We’ll be in shortly.”

“Of course, _monsieur_. May I take the tray?”

“What was that all about?” Constance asked as Kate left the room.

“Practicing, mainly. It’s good for me. Better than Spanish with Aramis. I have to work harder.”

“Then chat away, my love, if you like it. I wish mine was better but I won’t inflict it on you.”

“Maybe we’ll take a holiday in England and you can practice there.”

“Chance’d be a fine thing,” she said with a little sigh. “Your mum’s waiting.”

Anne had joined Thomas in the sitting room, where they had drawn the armchairs closer to the sofa. Athos paid more attention than he had before to his ex, and he thought Constance might be right. Anne had never been one to show her emotions carelessly any more than he did, but she lacked the vivacity he remembered. She seemed tired and lacking in interest, as if she was bored not just with being here, but with life.

Still, it would be inappropriate to ask her or question Thomas. She was, he told himself, not his problem any more.

“Did you sleep well, _Maman_?” he asked, giving his mother a kiss on the cheek.

“Very well. It’s one of the delights of getting older, you know. Being able to nap without being chided.”

“You were always the one doing the chiding,” Thomas pointed out.

“So I was,” she agreed with a smile. “Did I tell you I was thinking of writing another book? Constance, do sit here by me. You might be interested.”

Athos listened to his mother describe how she wanted to write a work aimed at the popular market, about the everyday life of Louis XIII and his wife. “Why them?” Constance asked.

“There’s so much about the Sun King, but not much written for the lay person about the lesser kings. But of course the seeds of so much of what Louis XIV did was started before him. Things like the wig-wearing and so on. And then you have Anne of Austria. Such a formidable lady.”

“Sounds like fun to write.”

“Yes, I thought so. It needs meticulous research of course. I would never put my name to anything less. But I wouldn’t have to stick to the stuffy academic style. What do you think, Thomas?”

“Me, _Maman_? I’m an illiterate savage.”

“You are not,” _Maman_ said sternly. “And it’s nothing to be proud of. What about you, Anne?”

Anne sat up with a jerk, as if surprised to be spoken of. “I’d read about her. Louis, not so much. Kings had it easy. The women were the ones who had to work hard for what they had.”

“Yes, you’re quite right about that.” Anne gave Athos’s mother a brief smile. “I shall begin after Xmas. I might even come to Paris to look up a few things, what do you think, Athos?”

“It would be delightful. But how’s your horse riding?”

She chuckled delicately, which for his mother was the equivalent of Porthos throwing his head back and roaring with amusement. “I’ll borrow your tricycle.”

“What the hell are you two on about?” Thomas demanded.

“Private joke, dear. I see you like Fleur’s madeleines.”

“They’re delicious,” he said, though he poked his tongue at the corner of his mouth as if it was bothering him.

Athos ignored him and passed the plate of biscuits to Constance. “They really are good,” she said, taking another. “I’ll have to be careful down here, I see. Or you’ll have to pay excess on me going home.”

“We’ll have no talk of diets down here, Constance,” his father said. “And certainly not over Xmas.”

“Certainly not,” she murmured, giving _Papa_ one of her lovely smiles. “Diets are for January.”

“January is for weddings,” Athos said. 

“So soon, then,” _Papa_ said.

“Yes. Life is short. We both learned that in September.”

His father nodded gravely. Athos didn’t dare look at Anne or Thomas.

“Oh, bloody hell!”

All eyes turned on Thomas, who had put his plate down with a crash and was now poking at his face. “Do those madeleines have citrus in them? My lips are all swollen. Look, Anne, aren’t they swollen?”

She obligingly examined his mouth. “Yes, they are.”

“Citrus?” his mother said. “But Fleur knows you’re allergic. Do you need the doctor?”

“No, I have medication in my room. But what the hell is lemon doing in those biscuits?”

Athos rose. “Why don’t you go and take your medication, Thomas, and I’ll talk to Fleur.”

“Bring her in here,” _Papa_ said, his look severe. “I want an answer too.”

Constance came silently to Athos’s side and together they went to the kitchen. Fleur was another new hire after his parents’ cook and housekeeper—husband and wife—had retired at the same time, two years previously. “ _Mademoiselle_?” he called.

The woman—girl, really—came from out of the storeroom. “ _Monsieur_? Can I help you?”

“Is there lemon or some other citrus in the madeleines you made?”

“Yes, _monsieur_. It’s usual.”

“My brother is allergic. Don’t you know this?”

She put her hand over her mouth. “Oh my God. I forgot. I’m so sorry.”

“You’d better come in and explain to my mother, _mademoiselle_.”

Fleur followed them to the sitting room, where, with a hangdog expression, she said she had completely forgotten about Thomas’s allergy. “We have been so busy, _madame_. I’m sorry.”

Athos’s mother pursed her lips. “Very well. But you must take more care, Fleur. Imagine if his allergy was life-threatening?”

“I’m sorry. I will be more careful.”

“Have you made anything else containing lemon?”

“No, _madame_. There’s the juice for breakfast, though.”

“He’ll know not to touch that. You can use lemon if you must, but you must warn him, and preferably avoid it altogether.”

She gave a little bob. “Yes, of course, _madame_.”

“Off you go, Fleur.”

After the girl had left, and Athos and Constance retaken their seats, Athos said, “I wasn’t even aware he was allergic.”

“It developed two years ago. It won’t kill him, fortunately,” his mother said. “But last Xmas there was lemon in a glaze and he was in discomfort for several days. I’m surprised Fleur didn’t remember. She was there.”

“People can be oblivious,” Constance said. “Even when the allergy could kill. I’ve never heard of allergy to lemon before.”

“It’s to all citrus,” _Papa_ said. “It’s relatively unusual. I dare say Thomas has this problem a lot when he travels.”

“Which is why he carries the medication,” Athos said. “He’ll survive.”

“Cold,” his mother chided. “But true.” She reached for the plate of biscuits. “Fortunately I am not allergic to anything,” she said, and bit into one of the frankly delicious madeleines.

***********************

Cleaning her teeth in the ensuite, Constance discovered that the dividing wall between their room and the next was distressingly thin, and the occupants could hear everything she did, just as she was the unwilling auditor of the argument going on next door. She made as much noise as possible both to cover the sound of the quarrel and to warn the other people their privacy was illusory.

When she emerged, Athos was sitting in boxers and t-shirt on the bed. "You might want to wait unless you're big on _schadenfreude_ ," she told him. He raised an eyebrow. "Anne and Thomas are having words."

"Ah."

"Actually he's having words and she's trying to appease him."

"Oh." Athos's confusion turned into disapproval. "Is it abusive?"

"If you were listening to it in my basement, I think Thomas could expect a surprise visitor."

"I should—"

She held up her hand. "How do you think that would go down, really?"

"No one should have to put up with that, Constance."

"Do you think I disagree, love? But it can wait until tomorrow. It might be better coming from me too. I can talk to her perhaps."

He offered his hand and pulled her down beside him. "I don't think I want Anne having a chance to rip you to bits."

"Love, the last time she had a go at you, you had a panic attack, and since then I've survived someone trying to kill me. Her nasty tongue doesn't scare me."

"It should."

She rubbed his thigh. "Let's sleep on it. But if Thomas talks to women like that, I definitely picked the right de la Fère brother."

"I'm glad."

They made love slowly, gently. It wasn't always like this. Constance liked those times when their passion overran them and Athos, always so steady and considered in his words and actions, revealed the barbarian buried so deep he could only reveal it when coaxed out through deep love or deep anger. On those occasions, the atavistic hedonist in her own heart rose eagerly to greet the wild man, to rush together and be savage together, until he let her tame him, and restore him to the man he chose to be, dark passions and emotions hidden behind an addiction to honour and rationality that was nothing short of obsession.

But on nights like this, he was tender, sweet, endlessly careful. He mapped every centimetre of her skin, tasted her as if she was a rare and expensive delicacy, and his long fingers lingered over nipples and eyelids and within hidden folds to drag pleasure slowly from her. And when he entered her, the only sadness was that she could not draw him in deeper, harder, longer, that he had to withdraw eventually, and not live with her joined, pinned by his cock, never to be apart again.

All was quiet when they lay together afterwards. When she used the bathroom, there was nothing to hear, thankfully. Thomas's words had been ugly, the tone all too familiar to Constance, and she knew now what had reduced Anne de la Fère to a quiet, unhappy shadow. It gave Constance no pleasure to know it. No matter what she'd done to Athos, Anne did not deserve abuse. No one did. Constance doubted Thomas could be convinced to change his ways. Anne's best chance to escape his behaviour was to leave and never come back.

Maybe that was why she wanted to leave France altogether.

Athos said there was no particular time to get up in the mornings, and that his parents would most likely have their breakfast in bed. He and Constance could do the same or take it in any room they chose. Knowing she could sleep as long as she wanted meant she slept deeply, without waking even once.

It was no fun at all being woken by a blood-curdling scream.


	5. Chapter 5

Athos took the vital second to check Constance was safe beside before he ran from the bedroom toward the cries for help. "She's killed him! Someone, help!"

He found Kate in the hallway, clutching her forearm, blood on her fingers. "Where?"

"Their bedroom. Thomas."

Constance was behind him. "Look after her," he told his lover, then he cautiously opened the door to his brother’s room.

Anne was slumped on the ground, clutching a knife in her hand, blood on her nightgown. “Are you hurt?” he asked, keeping clear.

She shook her head. “Thomas...help him.”

Thomas was still in bed, the bedclothes up to his neck. Athos touched his face—cold—and he had no pulse. Athos checked his breathing to be sure. He pulled back the sheets and quilt, and found blood on his brother’s t-shirt, and a slit in the material. Lifting the shirt, the cause of Thomas’s lack of pulse became obvious. His brother was dead and had been for some time.

“Did you do this?” he barked at Anne.

“No. Is he dead?”

“Yes. What happened?”

Her green eyes were confused, huge in a pale face. “I don’t know. We went to bed, and the next thing I remember is someone screaming at me. I had this....” She looked at the knife and put it down on the carpet. “In my hand.”

“You stabbed him.”

“No! Why would I kill him? I loved him!”

“I’m calling the police. You stay right where you are.”

She held her hands out to him. “Athos, help me. I don’t know what happened.”

Athos ignored her, backing up to the door while keeping her in his sights, and calling out, “Constance? Is _Papa_ coming? Is Kate badly hurt?”

“I’m here, Athos.” _Papa_ stood in the doorway.

“ _Papa_ , Thomas is dead. Please call the police. And help for Kate.”

“Dead?”

He turned to look at his father. “Stabbed. Anne killed him.”

“Dear God.”

Athos fought to keep control of his emotions, to be the professional. “I need your people to guard this room and her until the police get here.”

“I’ll send them up.”

“And _Papa_ , try to keep _Maman_ where she is. She doesn’t need to see...him.”

“Of course not. I’ll be back shortly.” His father put his hand on Athos’s shoulder briefly, then walked away. Athos continued to watch Anne, who had given up pleading and was now staring at her hands in her lap.

“Athos?”

His lover came to stand at his shoulder. “Constance, love, what did Kate say? Is she all right?”

Constance kept her voice low. “She has a long cut on her arm. Paul came up with a first aid kit and we’ve bound it up for her. She says she brought them their breakfast and noticed something was wrong with Thomas. When she shook Anne, Anne slashed at her with a knife, so she ran. Is Thomas dead?”

“Yes.”

“Oh God. I’m so sorry.” She took his hand. “You think Anne did it?”

“Who else? She had the weapon in her hand when I came in. Stay here. I need to check something.”

He went to the window. No sign of entry, forced or otherwise. “Anne. Anne!” Her head snapped up. “Did you get up in the night?”

“No. I didn’t do it, Athos! Why would I kill him?”

“You can explain all that to the police.”

She poked at the knife with her foot. “This isn’t mine. I’ve never seen it before.”

Athos bent to look at it, but refrained from touching it. It looked like a kitchen carving knife. From the house’s kitchen? Anne would have had either to have brought it to the bedroom with the intention of killing Thomas, or gone and fetched it, possibly after the argument Constance heard. 

“Athos?”

He returned to the door. “What is it, love?”

“Why would she kill him and then stay to be caught?”

He felt a flash of irritation. Was this what Constance was worried about? “It’s not my job to speculate. A magistrate from the DCPJ will have to investigate. All I can do is keep her here and preserve the scene. You should see if Kate’s all right.”

“She’s downstairs. I’ll bring your dressing gown.”

“Thank you. But then, please find _Papa_ and help him, or stay with Kate.

Athos nodded without turning. _Thomas_. Even if his brother had been emotionally—or otherwise—abusing Anne, he didn’t deserve this. How could Anne do this to the family, here, and at this time? Did she hate them so much.

She looked so harmless and small, but it didn’t take strength to kill a sleeping man. Just the right weapon, and knowing where to stab. And that, she could have found out on the internet.

***********************

Constance dressed quickly then brought Athos his dressing gown, which he took with a nod but no word, his attention entirely taken up with keeping an eye on Anne. Constance wanted to stay with him but he’d told her to go find his father, so she went looking. The door to the large bedroom at the end was open, and she saw Claire sitting up in bed. “ _Madame_ , are you all right?”

“No,” she replied in a tremulous voice. “Please, Constance, come in.”

Constance walked in and took Claire’s hand. “You know?”

“He’s really dead? My Thomas?”

“Yes. I’m sorry.”

The hand in hers trembled, but Claire didn’t cry. “Can you stay with me, or does Athos need you?”

“He wants me to stay out of the way.” She spotted a chair at a little table and brought it over. “Is there anything you want? Would you like some coffee?”

“I have tea. I would like you to sit with me. I apologise for being weak.”

_You just lost your son._ “Not at all,” Constance said, patting her hand.

“Olivier said that Anne...how could she?”

“I don’t know. I find it hard to believe too.”

“I knew there was trouble there. Thomas isn’t...wasn’t...thoughtful the way Athos was. But I never dreamed.... Could it be this man who tried to hurt you?”

“That’s the most likely suspect,” Constance said. But Athos had sounded so sure, and there was the attack on Kate. “The police will investigate.”

“I just wanted...we don’t know what will happen with my illness, Constance. The doctors are hopeful, but you know what they’re like, and I can look it up on the internet as well as anyone else can. I just wanted this Xmas to be a time of peace and perhaps healing for my boys.” She wiped under one eye with a slender finger. “Now it will be funerals and recriminations and sorrow.”

“I’m so sorry, _madame_.”

“Oh please, call me Claire, my dear. Olivier likes to be formal, but you are to be our daughter-in-law.”

Constance smiled. “Thank you, Claire.”

They sat together a little longer, then Athos’s father returned. “The police are here, Claire. They may have to search the house, so you should get dressed. Constance, my dear girl, thank you for helping her. Can you be with her while we...attend?”

“Yes, of course.”

He nodded and went out. “Do you want to get up, Claire?” Constance asked.

“I should. Poor Athos. Once he is free, will you bring him to me?”

“Yes, certainly. Do you need help getting dressed?”

Claire gave her a wry look. “I’m not that feeble, my dear. Give me a few minutes.”

Once she was dressed and ready, she took Constance’s arm and they walked down the corridor towards the stairs. A police officer stood outside the bedroom door where Thomas had been killed. Constance didn’t encourage Claire to linger, though she wondered where Anne was now.

Downstairs, Paul the chauffeur and Fleur rushed to Claire’s side. “What dreadful news, _madame_ ,” Paul said. 

“Yes, indeed. Constance, I think the small dining room might be the best place to sit. Paul, bring all the staff who are free in to see me, please.”

Those staff were Fleur, the young groom Luc, Paul, and a gardener called Matthieu. “Thank you all for coming in,” Claire said. “Have the police spoken to any of you?”

Fleur raised her hand. “Yes, _madame_. They said they’d want to talk to me later.”

“That’s probably the case for all of you. In the meantime, I beg you not to talk to your friends and family about this, and not to post anything about it on the internet. You know how much we value our privacy.”

Matthieu spoke. “We are all shocked, _madame_. And none of us will say a word, right?” The other employees nodded. “What do you want us to do?”

“Just get on with your usual work. Fleur, please offer the police officers refreshments. And all of you, do cooperate with them. My son....” She paused. “Athos, that is, may also wish to talk to you. I have no idea about arrangements for Thomas’s funeral.”

“What about _Madame_ de la Fère?” Fleur asked.

“What about her?”

“We heard she was the one who did it.”

“We don’t know who did it,” Constance said. “You shouldn’t spread such rumours.”

Fleur frowned. “But Kate—”

Claire held up a hand. “Speculation isn’t helpful, Fleur. If you’re questioned, say what you know, not what you’ve been told or guessed. And I suggest none of you talk about it with each other, so your evidence is untainted. Now, thank you.”

“You’ve been listening to Athos,” Constance said as the staff left the room.

“My dear, I’m a historian. I know all about tainted evidence. I think I need coffee.”

“I’ll ask Fleur,” Constance said. Just then, Athos came in. “Oh love, how is it going?”

“Slowly.” He wiped his face. Somehow, he had found time to dress.

“I’m just getting coffee. Why don't you sit with your mother for a few minutes?”

“Yes,” Claire said. “Sit down. You’re not in charge of investigating this, I hope.”

“No, _maman_ , of course not. I was just helping them, giving them a statement. Constance, you’ll need to speak to them.”

She paused at the doorway. “Me?”

“About last night.”

“Oh. All right. Coffee for you?”

“Please. And a croissant. Whatever’s there.”

Constance busied herself in the kitchen since Fleur was nowhere to be seen, but the girl returned as she had the coffeemaker set up. “Oh, sorry, _madame_ , I’ll deal with this.”

“All done,” Constance said cheerfully. “Such an upsetting morning.”

“I know. I heard Kate screaming and I jumped out of bed as soon as I heard it. Paul came running too. I’m not surprised, you know,” she said in a low voice, moving closer. “ _Monsieur_ Thomas was horrible to women.”

“Was he? How do you know?”

Fleur’s expression closed in. “Just things I heard. Did you want something to eat with that? I haven’t made fresh croissants this morning, but these ones will warm up fine.” She bustled about, getting the items, and making it clear she didn’t want to talk about Thomas again.

Constance accepted the food and the coffee, then brought the tray into the dining room. Athos was holding his mother’s hand and talking in a quiet voice to her. Constance set the tray down and carefully avoiding looking like she was listening.

Athos sat up and poured the coffee for them all. “There’s no sign of an intruder,” he said. “So while it’s possible it’s Fèron and company, I think it’s unlikely.”

“I still don’t understand why she would do it here.”

Athos pursed his lips and his eyebrows drew down in irritation. “Why is irrelevant, Constance. The evidence is overwhelming.”

Claire shot him a look for that. “I wondered the same thing, actually.”

With an obvious effort, Athos answered his mother politely. “I have no idea why, _maman_. Murderers are often irrational.”

“Yes, but Anne is not an unintelligent woman, nor prone to impulse. At least, not in the time I’ve known her.”

“She left Athos,” Constance said.

“That doesn’t make her capable of murder, my dear.”

“No, I just meant that maybe that was an impulse.”

“I doubt it,” Claire said. “Athos, where’s your father?”

“Talking to the police about security and so on. Thomas...the body won’t be removed for a while yet. Anne will be taken to Périgueux soon.”

“And Kate?”

“Uh, she’s talking to the inspector. She doesn’t need to go to hospital. The paramedics have redressed it, and it doesn’t require stitches.”

“Poor woman,” Claire said. “Constance, there’s an agency we use when she takes her holidays. I wonder if you could call them for me and ask for a replacement for a week. Kate will want to have some time off, I’m sure.”

“Of course, Claire.”

Athos frowned at them both. “ _Maman_ , I can—”

“Help your father,” Claire said firmly. “Constance will assist me. There will be a lot to do, including a funeral. I suppose that will have to be after New Year now.”

“Athos, I can stay down here an extra week. Help out.”

He gave her a look of pure gratitude. “Thank you, love. I’ll ask Treville for the same. I’ll be as popular as the plague.”

“Needs must,” Claire said somewhat unsympathetically, Constance thought. “When the police have done with Kate, send her to me. Then I’ll let you know, Constance, how long we need relief for.”

“Yes. What would you like me to do now?”

“Sit with me, unless the police want you. Athos?”

“They’ll come find you both.” He took a big bite of croissant, and swallowed it down with the coffee. “Right. I’ll go find _Papa_.” He came and leaned over his mother, kissed her hair. “I’m so sorry, _maman_.”

“We must be strong,” she murmured.

He gave Constance a wry look. “See you both later.”

“What happened last night?” Claire wanted to know as soon as he left.

“I heard them arguing. I thought it crossed a line from normal couple’s fighting into something more serious. I was going to talk to Anne this morning.”

Claire nodded. “She has been terribly subdued since she arrived.”

“She said you don’t like her.”

“Well, of course we don’t like what she _did_. But Thomas is...I mean, was...as much to blame as she was. Possibly more. Anne was dreadfully distressed when Athos was hurt. Distraught. Thomas took advantage of that.”

Constance raised her eyebrows in surprise. “I thought — ”

“That we’d take his side? My dear, we love our boys, but we’re not _stupid_.”

Constance took Claire’s hand and leaned in. “I think...something doesn’t sit right about this. Athos says the evidence is clear but it doesn’t feel right to me.”

“Do you think this is the right time to play amateur detective, Constance?”

She flushed with embarrassment. “No, _madame_. I’m sorry. I can’t...I’ll be quiet.”

“Perhaps for the best. Sometimes things are just what they appear, unfortunately.”

The silence that followed was awkward, but Constance couldn’t think of a reason to escape. The appearance of a police officer in the doorway asking if she was available to be spoken to, came as a relief.

The detectives had set themselves up in the main dining room. The oldest one stood to welcome her. “Thank you for coming to speak to us, _Madame_ Bonacieux. This is my colleague, Inspector Perrault, and I am Inspector Fouquet. Please sit.” She did so. “Your fiancé indicated you heard something last night that might be relevant. So could you please tell us about that and anything you heard this morning.”

“It wasn’t much. As I was cleaning my teeth, I heard Thomas shouting at Anne.”

“About?”

“Money, I think. I was trying not to listen. It was embarrassing. But he was insulting her quite nastily, calling her stupid and useless.”

“And what did she say?” Perrault asked.

“I couldn’t hear. I mean, I know she was speaking but it was very quiet and not for long. It was mostly him.”

“And you don’t know what exactly was the cause of the fight?”

She frowned in concentration. “A loan, I think. At least, he said ‘loan’ a couple of times. And ‘investment’. I’m sorry. My late husband was abusive and the last thing I wanted was to listen to more of the same.”

“You considered it abuse? Did you hear anything of a physical nature?”

“No, _monsieur_ , I did not. And all I heard this morning was Kate screaming for help, and then, ‘She killed him’.”

“There is nothing more you wish to add?” She shook her head. “Thank you. That’s all we need for now.”

She left, wishing she had spent a bit more time listening against the wall. But the sound of Thomas’s voice had made her physically sick. She was almost glad he was dead, but she would never admit that to anyone.


	6. Chapter 6

It was past one in the afternoon before Thomas’s body was removed from the house. Athos supervised it with his father, although his mother came out to see her son and to kiss his forehead, before going inside with Constance at her side. 

Once the hearse left the courtyard, _Papa_ turned to him. “I need a brandy.”

“So do I, but I won’t. You go ahead though.”

“I don’t know if that means you have very good control, or no control at all, Athos.”

“I don’t know myself, _Papa_.”

His father had aged ten years since that morning. At least he hadn’t had to see Anne taken from the house, pleading with Athos for help. Although he felt nothing but hate for her for what she had done, she had made a pathetic picture nonetheless.

His mother and Constance were in the sitting room his mother favoured. _Papa_ went to the wine cupboard and pulled out a bottle of Armagnac. “Ladies?”

“Yes, please,” _Maman_ said.

“If you don’t mind,” Constance said. “Though we should eat, should we not?”

“Later, at least for me,” Athos said. His stomach was in an uproar and he was quite sure he would vomit if he tried to eat anything.

“Ring the bell for Fleur,” _Maman_ said. “She can bring some sandwiches.” Athos did that, and asked the woman to bring him some water. “Now, Athos, sit down. You’re not investigating this any more.”

“I’m not investigating it at all. It’s open and shut. I expect Anne to be charged by tomorrow morning.”

Constance shifted, but said nothing. Athos didn’t ask what she wanted. He was afraid she would say something that broke through his tightly restrained emotions.

“I’ve called my boss,” he said. “He told me to take extra time if I need it. I have no idea when the body will be released.”

“I can help arrange the funeral,” Constance said. “I have recent experience.”

Athos winced. “Yes, you do.”

“Thank you, Constance. Your help will be appreciated,” _Papa_ said, and apparently without any sarcasm. “Athos, I don’t suppose you have any idea if Thomas had any wishes regarding burial or cremation.”

“No. Anne would know.”

“We can’t exactly ask her now, can we?”

“No. Do you know who his lawyers were?”

They discussed the legal issues, and the fact that the estate would probably not be sorted out until Anne’s fate was known. “I should call his employers,” Athos said.

“I shall do that. I don’t want you to immerse yourself in this to the exclusion of all else. You have Constance here, and you’ve taken valuable leave to be together. So, you should do that.”

“You expect me to have fun while Thomas is dead and you’re planning his funeral?”

Constance move closer and put her hand on his arm. “Love.”

Athos forced himself to calm down. “Sorry, _Papa_.”

“No, I understand. But as Constance reminded us, you two have had a bad year. I’m not so feeble I can’t manage this.”

Athos glanced at his mother, and was surprised to see her nodding with agreement. “But _maman_ , your illness.”

“Is neither here nor there. You can help. We need you to help. But you’re not a policeman here, Athos. You are a grieving brother, and our only child now. We want to look after you as much as you want to look after us.”

Athos nodded, barely able to contain his tears.

Kate entered then with a tray. Athos jumped up to help. “Should you be working?”

“I’m not used to sitting still, _monsieur_.” But she let him take the tray. “Did you want anything else, _madame_?”

“No. Thank you, Kate. We appreciate your devotion to your work.”

Kate bobbed her head, and left the room. “She refused any time off,” his mother said. “She’ll ask for assistance if she needs it.”

“The cut isn’t that deep,” Constance murmured. “But painful.”

“Athos,” _Maman_ said, “are you allowed to you tell us what happened? Now we’ve all given our statements, I mean.”

Athos took the water from the tray. Constance passed the plates around and his parents took some sandwiches from the platter. “You understand what I say has no legal force.”

“Of course.”

“Then what I gather from Kate, what I observed, is that Anne killed Thomas during the night, perhaps five hours before he was discovered. She went back to sleep—”

“What?” his mother said. “How could she...sorry, go on.”

Athos nodded. “She went back to sleep. Kate thought something was wrong with Thomas—”

“How?” Constance said, then covered her mouth. “Sorry.”

“And when she woke Anne, Anne slashed at her with a knife she still had in her hand. Kate was injured as you know, and ran for help. It’s really that simple.”

“And yet,” _Maman_ said, “there are already two very odd things. How could she go back to sleep, and what did Kate notice?”

Athos smiled. “Perhaps Anne thought she would wake in time to conceal the weapon. And I’m not sure what Kate noticed. He was on his back, very still, when I came in. But I could have thought he was asleep, if I hadn’t been prewarned.”

“Why don’t we just ask her?” Constance said.

“Good idea. Please ring the bell again, Athos.”

Suppressing a sigh at both the women in his life, Athos obeyed, and Kate came in almost immediately. “Yes, _madame_?”

“Kate, would you tell me what alerted you about Thomas this morning?”

“He wasn’t moving. He was still. Not breathing.”

“Thank you, that’s all we wanted to know.”

The woman smiled politely and with more patience than Athos would have mustered, then left. “See? Simple,” he said.

“I still want to know why Anne would do such a thing here,” Constance said, and Athos’s temper snapped.

“Why? Why are you so interested in why she chose to slaughter my brother here rather than in the seclusion of their apartment? What possible difference could it make? He’s still _dead_ , Constance.”

Constance flushed and bit her lip. “Excuse me, please.” She left the room before Athos could collect himself and apologise.

His parents said nothing, but looked at him expectantly. “Why does she keep asking that?” he pleaded. “She was on about it from the moment she heard the news.”

“Because she, as I do, want to know,” his mother said. “She, unlike you, is not blinded by anger and can see that this is one of several odd things about this situation.”

“Anne killed him, _maman_. I’m sorry I don’t have the stomach to question the fine details. As you said, I’m not investigating this. I’m just a man who lost...who lost his brother. Excuse me.”

He stalked out into the great hall, found his coat in the cloakroom, and went outside into the chilly air. It had snowed again overnight, though not enough to conceal any signs of intrusion. The house’s guards came from a firm his father had built and still owned. Former cops and army officers, they had impressed Athos with their professionalism. It hadn’t been enough to keep Thomas safe though. No one had thought to protect him from the snake in his own bed.

He briefly contemplated going for a horse ride, but the last time he’d done so had been with Anne, so the impulse quickly died. He pulled his coat tightly around him, and went for a walk.

***********************

Constance had fled to their bedroom after Athos’s rebuke, but didn’t want to be found there if he came looking. She grabbed her tablet and phone and retreated to the back living room, where she got the fire going. She curled up under a blanket on the sofa, and tried not to cry. Athos was upset, she knew that, and would be sorry. She knew that too. But she couldn’t shake the feeling something was wrong, and that Anne had been dealt with unfairly. That meant she couldn’t let it go.

She checked her messages. There was one from Sylvie asking her to call, so she did. “Hey, sweetie, how is my niece?”

“She’s suckling like a champ. And it turns out she already has a brother.”

Constance sat up. “What?” 

“One of Aramis’s old flames wrote and decided the best Xmas present she could give him was a previously unknown son.”

“Oh my God. Sylvie, are you all right?”

“I’m fine. Annoyed, but I’m not sure who with. He had no idea, that much I know about. The kid is six, and we’re going to meet him after new year.”

“We? Both of you?”

“Hell yes. This is going to happen with my full knowledge or not at all.” Sylvie sighed. “How’s it going with the dragons in law?”

“They’re lovely actually. Um, but...Athos’s brother has died. Been killed. They think Anne did it.” 

Sylvie’s screech of surprise nearly deafened her. “What? How? When?”

Constance told her what Athos had said, pretty much verbatim. “But why would she do it there?” Sylvie asked.

“That’s what I want to know. But asking has put me in the doghouse. He’s furious with me, but I still want to know.”

“I understand that. I understand him though. I mean, if someone was asking me if my dad had made the bastard angry enough to punch him hours after he died, I’d have gone mental.”

“I know. I have a big mouth.”

“No, you don’t. I wish I could help you, darling.”

“There’s something the cook said. She said Thomas was horrible to women, and I wondered if that was relevant. He was horrible to Anne, I know that.” She went over what she had heard.

“A man like that isn’t just nasty to his partner. You know that as well as I do. I wonder if there was trouble at work.”

“I bet there was,” Constance said. “But I don’t know how to investigate that.”

“Can’t the police ask?”

“They think it’s open and shut.”

“Then you need to speak to Anne herself. She worked with him.”

“Can I trust her though?”

“Check and cross-reference. Journalism 101.”

Constance considered. “If she’s bailed, I’ll try and talk to her. I can’t tell Athos though.”

“He’ll be furious if he finds out.”

“I know. Is it terribly disloyal?”

“No, darling. You just want the truth.”

“I also want to marry him. Is helping her worth the risk?”

“You have to decide that, Constance.”

“If it was you, what would you do? If doing it meant Aramis left you.”

“God. I mean, integrity’s one thing but losing the one you love is another.”

“Exactly. His mum wants to know though.”

“Maybe you should talk it over with her. But not today, darling. When’s the funeral?”

“No idea. I’m going to take more time down here if I need to. If they still want me around,” Constance added, not at all sure she would remain welcome.

“Is there anything we can do?”

“Just let me call you and ramble from time to time?”

“I can do that. I love you, darling. And him. Give him a kiss from me and don’t take no for an answer.”

“I won’t.”

She put her phone away, and didn’t start up her tablet. Instead she closed her eyes and tried to walk through the crime as Athos had described it. 

After a few minutes, she had another question. Was Anne de la Fère right or left handed?

***********************

Athos closed the front door behind him, removed his boots, but couldn’t find the energy to take off his coat. Kate came rushing up to him. “ _Monsieur_ , are you unwell?”

“Where is Constance?”

“In the rear living room, _monsieur_. Shall I fetch her?”

“No.” He roused himself. “How is your arm?”

“Fine, _monsieur_. A little painful, but I’m fine.”

He nodded and staggered off to find Constance. When he’d left on his walk, he was furious at her, at Anne, at Thomas, at everything. As he walked, the anger remained, but Constance’s question kept eating at him. _Why here?_

Now he found he needed to know as well. But damned if he was going to ask Anne. He would call Fouquet in the morning.

Constance was reading on the sofa, and looked up as he walked in. “Athos! You look terrible.” She jumped up and took his hand to lead him over to the sofa. “You’re frozen. Take that coat off and put this around you.” She swathed him in a warm blanket and put cushions behind him. 

He sat passively as she bustled, because her love and kindness were the medicine he needed. She rang the bell and when Kate came in, asked her for something warm for him, and tea. He stared at the fire as Constance built it up, mesmerised by the flames. She turned on a table lamp, then joined him on the sofa, wrapping him in her arms. “Why did you stay out so late? You’ll get sick.”

“I’m sorry.” He looked into her eyes. “For being angry.”

“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed.”

“I’ll ask the detectives to find out what you want to know. Tomorrow, I’ll call.”

“Okay.” She held him and said nothing more. It helped. It helped a great deal.

Kate returned with a tray containing vegetable soup and a teapot. Constance dismissed her, asking her to hang up Athos’s wet coat, then handed him the soup. “Eat,” she ordered. “You had no lunch.”

“No,” he agreed. Every spoonful of the soup restored him, but Constance’s kind eyes did more. 

“I called Sylvie, returned her call. You’ll never guess her news,” she said, rubbing his feet which she’d taken into her lap.

“She’s pregnant again?”

“Nearly.” Athos almost dropped the spoon. “Aramis has a son he never knew about.”

“Shit.”

“Yes. Sylvie is cranky. Anyway, they’re going to meet the boy after Xmas.”

“He can hardly afford to support another child.”

“She didn’t mention that. So, merry Xmas to her as well as us, I suppose.”

“Not the same.”

“No,” Constance said, taking the bowl from him. She poured him tea and added two sugars. “Drink that too. You’re lucky your mother didn’t see you come in like this.”

“She’d be annoyed.”

“Like I am. Damn it, Athos, they don’t need to lose two sons in one day.”

The cup in the saucer he held rattled as his hands began to shake, and Constance had to rescue it before he spilled it. He put his hand over his eyes, unable to hold the tears back. He’d done so well all day.

She held him and let him cry. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you,” she murmured, stroking his hair.

Athos didn’t reply. He only wanted to lose himself in the feel of her embrace, and forget the hideous reality that now faced his family.


	7. Chapter 7

Having decided that her first duty was to support her lover and his family, Constance found this left her with very little to do, at least on Monday. Claire appreciated her company for an hour or so, but then shooed her off to do her own thing with Athos. But Athos was closeted with his father for much of the morning, and she didn’t want to interrupt.

She wanted to stretch her legs, so she wandered out to the stables, thinking she could meet these horses and maybe go for a walk. The smell told her where the horses were stabled, and Luc came out to greet her as she approached. “Good morning, _madame_. Did you want to go for a ride?”

“Not yet,” she answered cautiously. “But I’d like to see the horses. How many do you have?”

“Four, _madame_.”

They were lovely animals, with glossy coats and soft, velvety noses that Luc encouraged her to stroke. He gave her some carrots to offer them. “Do you want to learn to ride, _madame_?”

“Maybe. They’re awfully big.” And she wasn’t very tall. “Won’t they slip in this snow?”

“No, _madame_. They’re very surefooted, these ones. Perhaps you might try tomorrow?”

“Perhaps. How long have you worked here?”

“Almost two years. I like it very much. I love working with these boys.” He grinned as he patted the neck of the brown gelding nearest him.

“Did you know Thomas well? Or _Madame_ Anne?”

His expression changed to ascowl. “No, _madame_. I only met him last Xmas, then at Easter this year.”

“You didn’t like him.”

He shook his head then went off to fetch a brush to use on a horse further down the line of stalls. Constance followed him. “Luc, why didn’t you like Thomas?”

“Not my place to say, _madame_.”

“I won’t tell. Was he rude to you? Rude to someone you like?” The scowl deepened. “Rude to Anne?”

“ _Madame_ , I shouldn’t be talking to you about him. _Madame_ de la Fère said not to.”

“Yes, but—”

“I’m sorry. I have to get something from the barn. Please excuse me.” He brushed past her and she was left staring at his retreating back.

She was certainly _Madame_ _Diplomatique_ this morning—not. But that was two votes against Thomas—three if she counted Anne. She wondered if any of the other staff had strong feelings about the dead man.

Paul was in the garage, cleaning their hire car. “You don’t have to do that,” she protested.

“I have nothing else to do, _madame_ ,” he said with a smile. “May I help you?”

“Oh, I was just wondering how well you knew Thomas.”

He straightened up. “Well enough, I suppose. I’ve worked for the family for ten years, in Paris, and now here in the Dordogne. What did you want to know?”

“Was he popular with the family’s staff?”

His mouth twisted. “With the men? Yes. With the women, not really. He had a reputation for being handsy. It was not appreciated.”

“Handsy. As in, he assaulted them.”

Paul made a ‘ _comme çi, comme ça_ ’ gesture. “Not hurting them, but, you know, coming up behind them and squeezing their...bosoms.”

“Really? Yuck. Did Anne know about this?”

“I cannot say, _madame_. I did speak to him a couple of times to ask him not to do this, but he laughed it off. I didn’t press it because, well, he was my boss’s son.”

“Of course. So, did you hear if there was anything more serious than...bosoms?”

Paul frowned. “No, I don’t think so. At least, no one said anything to me.”

“Is this why Luc doesn’t like him?”

“Luc? Ah, yes, very likely. He and Fleur are very close, and she’s young and pretty.”

And Thomas was a creep. “Did you say any of this to the police?”

“No, _madame_. They didn’t ask, and I didn’t think it was relevant.”

“Right. Thank you, Paul.”

“You’re welcome, _madame_. If you want to get out, I could take you for a drive around the region. It’s very beautiful.”

“I’d like that. Maybe later?”

“Certainly, _madame_.”

She had a lot to think about as she walked back to the house. If Anne did know about Thomas, that might give her a motive above and beyond his personal abuse of her. But none of it sat right with her.

“Constance.”

She looked up and smiled at Athos standing on the steps to the house. “Hello, love. Taking a break?”

“Yes. Thomas’s body has been released, so we can plan the funeral.”

“Do you want my help?”

“We don’t need it, but if you want to, you’re welcome.” Athos came down the steps. “What have you been up to?”

“Oh, just talking. Meeting the horses. They’re so big.”

“I suppose so. Did you meet Roger? He’s my horse.”

“No?”

“Ah, I’ll have to introduce you. I mean, after everything.”

“What’s happening with Anne?”

“She’s been charged with premeditated murder.”

Constance stared at him in shock. “Really?”

Athos shrugged. “She’s not saying of course, but that kind of killing, it’s not by accident.”

“But surely there was provocation.”

“So you say, but she’s not claiming it. It makes no difference to me, so long as she’s convicted.”

“But don’t you want to know _why_ , Athos? Won’t it bother you?”

He went very still. “No. I don’t care why. All I care about is that Thomas is dead and she needs to be punished for killing him.” He shook himself. “Let’s not fight about that. I came to find you and tell you lunch is ready, if you want it.”

“Yes, I do.”

Lunch was a far more solemn affair than the one on the day they arrived. Athos’s father was quiet and sad, and Claire disinclined to tease Athos as she had done at the previous meal. Constance asked what she could do. “Does Anne’s stuff need to be packed up for removal?”

“No, the police took what they needed, but they asked for the rest to be left alone,” Athos said. 

“Has anyone contacted her friends? Or her family?”

“She has no family. And she can call her friends.” His look was a warning not to push.

But Claire was immune to her son’s scowls. “In the interest of mercy, perhaps Constance could ask Anne if she needs any help in that regard. She’s away from her home, and knows no one else down here. If you wished to, I mean,” she added to Constance.

“I don’t mind. It’s simple charity, after all.”

“You can’t see her yet,” Athos said, not looking at either of them. “When she’s transferred to the _maison d’arrêt_ , you can deal with that, if you insist. You’ll need permission to visit.”

“We won’t raise any objections if you do,” his father said.

“Thank you.”

“I don’t see why we should be the ones to help her.” Athos was frowning at his father. “She killed—”

“Athos.” He turned to his mother. “We are not savages. Also, her guilt has not been determined.”

“I found her with a knife in her hand!”

“Which hand?” Constance blurted out.

“What in God’s name does it matter?” His words hit harder because he didn't shout, but bit them off like each one was poison in his mouth.

“Which hand?”

“I can’t remember...right. The side he was on.”

“And which is her dominant hand?”

“Constance, I beg you, please—”

“Just answer her, son.” His father didn’t look happy, but she’d already upset everyone so....

“Left. She’s left-handed. My God, will you not let this go?”

Cosntance looked down. “Sorry.”

She heard him get up and walk away from the table. 

“Constance?” That was his mother.

“Yes, _madame_?”

“What are you doing?”

She found the courage to look up. “ _Madame_ , _monsieur_...my husband was an abuser. He spoke to me much as Thomas did to Anne that night, only it was for years. I recognised her when she walked in with him. I saw the same wariness, the same fear, the need to keep him happy.”

“Go on,” Athos’s father said. His brows were lowered like a thundercloud.

“The thing is, I never thought of killing my husband, and from everything I’ve read or heard of women living with abusive husbands, it usually has to get a lot worse before they do something. I mean, it has to become a threat to their lives.”

“ _Usually_ ,” Claire said.

“Yes. But another thing—we didn’t know who killed my husband for sure until the same people tried to kill Athos and me. It would have been so easy to assume I’d arranged it. I know Anne has hurt this family, but she shouldn’t suffer for what she didn’t do, if she didn’t do it.” She looked at each of them in turn. “There are too many things that don’t make sense. Like why. Like why here. Why lie in bed next to him with the murder weapon.”

“But who else could have done it?” Athos’s father asked. “Why would anyone else want to kill him?”

Constance couldn’t look at them. She had visions of being driven at speed to the airport and forced onto a plane back to Paris.

“Constance?” Claire said.

“I don’t want to offend you further.”

“Ah. So you’ve discovered something.”

“Three different people have told me that Thomas was horrible to women, and assaulted them.”

“Three people in this house? Who?”

She looked up. Athos’s father was glaring at her. “ _Monsieur_ , I can’t tell you that.”

“Olivier, you can’t ask her that either,” Claire said. “Constance, if that’s the case, Anne may have killed him in connection with that.”

“I know. She probably did. I just think we should find out why.”

“Why not leave it to the police? Or her lawyer?”

“If you think that’s best.”

Claire raised an eyebrow, then glanced at her husband. “If Athos insisted you had to drop it or he would break with you, what would you do?”

She inhaled deeply, her gut fluttering. “I love Athos more than my life. But if he asked me that, I would refuse to obey, because he could not be the man I imagine him to be. He would not be the man I love, if he would let an innocent woman be jailed because of his need for vengeance.”

“So what do you say to that, Athos?”

Constance jerked around. Athos was standing in the doorway, and must have heard almost all of that. She felt faint. Would he make her go home now?

He approached her, and stood by her side. “I say Constance Bonacieux is brave and clever and kind, and she shames me.” He bent and kissed her cheek. “I’m sorry, my love.”

She put her arms around his waist. “I’m not trying to hurt you. I’m really not.”

“I know. _Maman_ , what should we do?”

“I suggest we remove ourselves to the sitting room, have some coffee, and pool our knowledge. Olivier, are you finished with what you were doing this morning?”

“Yes, for now. I’ve yet to contact the funeral director, but we have time. We need to decide where we want to have Thomas buried.”

“We can talk about that later, perhaps,” Claire said. “Athos, help me up, please.” Athos helped her to stand. “Constance, would you ring for the coffee and ask Kate to bring it to the sitting room? Thank you. Now, let’s get on.”


	8. Chapter 8

It was a humbling experience for Athos to be sat with his lover and parents, and schooled on the many things he had ignored about his brother, and about his death. Constance and _Maman_ were overflowing with questions. Top of the list was of course, “Why here?”, but also, “Why at all?”, “Why now”, “Why didn’t she run?”, “Why was the knife in the wrong hand?”, and “Why did she attack Kate?”

“She says she doesn’t remember that,” Athos said.

“Drugs?” Constance asked. “Were any found?”

“Both of them were taking valium, on prescription. Anne doesn’t recall, but Kate said Thomas asked for two glasses of whisky before they went to bed, to be brought to their room. The glasses were taken away for testing.”

“The knife?” _Papa_ asked.

“From the kitchen.”

Constance said “Oh!”, and everyone turned to look at her. 

“What?” Athos asked.

“Um. One of my contacts who didn’t like Thomas for the way he treated women, is close to another one of my contacts who said he was horrible to women. Luc and Fleur,” she clarified when Athos stared in confusion. “You can’t punish them for talking to me, please promise that,” she begged his parents.

“Of course not,” _Maman_ said. “Why did you say ‘oh’?”

“The lemon in the madeleines.”

Athos got it. “Wait. I’ll fetch her in.”

He found Fleur in the kitchen. “ _Mademoiselle_ , could you spare us a couple of minutes?”

“Of course, _monsieur_.” She followed him to the sitting room, where he asked her to sit down. “How can I help?”

Athos nodded to Constance. “Go ahead.”

“Fleur, do you remember what you told me about Thomas yesterday morning?”

The girl suddenly looked wary. “No, _madame_.”

“About him and women.”

“Fleur, you may speak freely,” his mother said, smiling at her. “Nothing will be held against you. Other people have mentioned the issue.”

“I just said he was horrible to women.” Her hands twisted in her apron.

“Paul thought you might have been one of the women he’d been horrible to.”

Her eyes darted to the door, as if she was thinking of running. “Did he?”

“Fleur,” _Papa_ said, “did Thomas hurt you or insult you or do anything to offend you?”

“Am I in trouble, _monsieur_?”

“No,” Athos said. “Tell us the truth.”

“Last Xmas I was in the kitchen, loading the dishwasher, when he came up behind me, put his hands on my breasts and kissed the back of my neck. I got such a fright. I grabbed a knife and told him if he touched me again, I’d kill him.”

_Maman_ put her hand on her throat. “And did he?”

“No, _madame_. But he made some...remarks. Luc heard them.”

“And you and Luc are close,” Constance said, somewhat to Athos’s amazement. His fiancé had learned a hell of a lot in a very short space of time.

“Yes, _madame_. But we didn’t kill him!”

Athos held up his hand. “Did you really forget he was allergic to lemon? Or did you perhaps want to punish him for being so....”

“Creepy,” Constance supplied.

“Yes. Creepy.”

“I knew it wouldn’t hurt him too badly. Just when I saw him again, he made me sick. I’m sorry, _madame_. It was wrong of me.” She hung her head.

“I can’t say I’m pleased, Fleur,” _Maman_ said, “but in the circumstances, the temptation would be hard to resist.”

“Where were you on the night he died?” Athos asked.

“In bed, _monsieur_.”

“Alone?”

She flushed. “No, _monsieur_.”

“With Luc.” She nodded. “Whose bed?”

“Mine, _monsieur_.”

“Did you prepare the whisky my brother asked for that evening?”

“Yes, sir. I put it on a tray for Kate to take up.”

“Fleur, did you tell the detectives any of this?”

“No, _monsieur_. They didn’t ask.”

“They will now, because I have to tell them. Do you understand that?”

“I didn’t kill any one!”

“Calm yourself,” Athos said. “No one’s accusing you of anything. _Papa_ , I’ll have to call Fouquet. Fleur, please stay here.”

“Am I under arrest?”

“No, you aren’t. But if you try to leave, I dare say Inspector Fouquet may not be pleased with you. Excuse me.”

Athos went to the library cum office to make the call. Fouquet listened to what he had to say, then grunted. “Definitely puts a new light on matters. What’s your opinion?”

“I think you should ask all the staff about their relationships with my brother. We were unaware of this entirely.”

“I meant, do you think she could have done it? Your ex-wife has more motive.”

“Did she?”

“If he was abusing her.”

“We don’t know he was, or that she saw it that way.”

“We don’t know she didn’t, and since she has said so little, it’s hard to give her the benefit of the doubt. However, we will interview this woman and the other employees. We will come out immediately.”

“Thank you.”

When he returned to the sitting room, one of the house guards was there, watching Fleur. A wise precaution, perhaps— _Papa_ was probably not physically able to restrain her or stop her boyfriend from releasing her. “They’re on their way.” 

Fleur gave a little gasp. “Just to ask some questions,” Athos said.

Constance came over to him. “Can I speak to you?”

“Of course, love.”

“Outside?”

He agreed, but stood outside the sitting room door, in case of trouble. “What is it, darling?”

“I should speak to Anne about this. She might talk to me, rather than you or the other police.”

“I suppose you can try. But the detectives will probably re-interview her after today.”

“Okay. I need to speak to her anyway if we’re to help with the practical matters...or will that make you angry?”

He kissed her forehead. “After what you said before, I would be ashamed to say so, even if it were true. She still is our most likely suspect. Just keep that in mind.”

“I do. I’ll need your help to arrange it, though.”

“I will. Now, we should remove Fleur from that room so _Maman_ has her sanctuary back.”

“She can go to the little dining room, maybe?”

“Good idea.”

Fleur agreed to move to the other room, though she made noises about wanting a lawyer. They kept the door open, and Constance sat to keep her company,but the guard stood at the door to prevent her leaving. If she’d insisted on leaving the house, Athos would have either had to arrest her—which he could, on the grounds of assault—or let her go. Fortunately, she was cooperating, for now. He hoped Fouquet would not take too long to arrive.

Kate saw the commotion. “What is happening, _monsieur_?”

Athos drew her away from the door. “The police want to ask Fleur and the rest of you some more questions. Please don’t leave the house, and for the moment, don’t enter any of the bedrooms.”

“Of course not, _monsieur_. Is there something I can help with?”

“Not for the moment...ah, one thing though.” Athos moved further away from the door, and indicated she should keep her voice low. “Did my brother ever offer any...advances towards you? Behave offensively in any way?”

“ _Monsieur_ Thomas? No. Only the usual jokes French men make.”

“So he never touched you or tried to kiss you.”

“No, _monsieur_. Then again, I am hardly his type.”

Athos regarded her. She was about his age, skinny, flat-chested, with frizzy brown hair. No, Thomas would probably have dismissed her as beneath him. “Did you ever hear of him doing that kind of thing to other people? Other women?”

“One hears rumours, _monsieur_. I try to remain professional, of course. I do know he made Fleur extremely angry last year but she wouldn’t say what he did.”

“Right. Thank you. I’m sure this will all be sorted out soon.”

“I hope so, _monsieur_.”

Athos sighed. It was bad enough to discover Thomas had been abusing Anne. To find he’d been assaulting other women was appalling. Still, despite all the questions Constance and his mother had come up with, he had heard nothing to convince him Anne hadn’t killed Thomas. It was possible Fleur had done it, though it would have been more likely if she had done it the same day he’d assaulted her.

Perhaps she had not been honest about when the last assault had occurred. The groom, Brujon, should be able to confirm that.

He grabbed his coat and headed for the stables, but the lad wasn’t there. He went to the garage and found Paul and Luc sharing a coffee. “Good day, _Monsieur_ Athos,” Paul said.

“Hello, Paul. Luc, can I have a word in private?”

“Of course, _monsieur_.”

Paul took the hint. “I’ll be in my room.”

Athos told the lad to sit down again. “I understand you and Fleur are together.”

“Yes, _monsieur_. It’s allowed.”

“Of course. Fleur has told us about Thomas offering unwelcome advances. When was the last time he did that?”

“Xmas last year.” Luc’s expression became stormy. “He was a bastard, your brother, and I don’t care if you sack me for saying it. He couldn’t keep his hands off any of the women, even caterers who were here for the evening. Fleur felt like he’d raped her, she said.”

“But last year was the last time?”

“He made some remarks about her being a slut at Easter. I told him I would knock him down if he repeated them.”

“And this was at Easter?”

“Yes, _monsieur_.”

“So why did Fleur wait until this year to poison his food?”

“Poison? Oh, the lemon. Is she in trouble, _monsieur_?”

“Not for that,” Athos said carefully. “Just answer the question.”

“It was a spur of the moment thing. _Madame_ asked her to make madeleines and the recipe called for lemon, and Fleur told me she just decided to leave it in. I didn't know until afterwards.”

“One more question. The night Thomas died. Where were you?”

“With Fleur, in her room. It’s nicer,” he added with a shrug.

“And you are telling me the truth, are you? Are you sure?”

The lad stood up. He had several centimetres on Athos. “I am not lying, _monsieur_. I’m sorry for your loss, but _Monsieur_ Thomas was a creep.”

“Very well. The police are coming out to the house again as they have some more questions. Please don’t leave the house. Everyone will be spoken to again, okay?”

“Okay. Fleur didn’t kill him.”

“Did you?”

“No, _monsieur_!”

“Calm down, lad. Thank you for your honesty.”

Athos believed him. That didn’t mean Fleur hadn’t killed Thomas, but it was looking unlikely.

Fouquet and Perrault arrived half an hour later—his father’s name counted for something, it seemed. Athos told them where Fleur was, and what her lover had said. They allowed him to observe the interviews with her, Luc, Kate, and Paul, where he learned nothing more than what they had already told him or Constance.

“Now we need to search the bedrooms,” Fouquet said. 

“What about Matthieu, and the guards?”

“Don’t tell us how to do our job, eh, lieutenant? Keep that girl where she is for now.”

They went to Fleur’s room and began to search it with commendable thoroughness, concentrating on the dresser. Athos watched from the doorway.

“What’s this?” Perrault held up a bottle with an eyedropper. He peered at it. “Diazepam? Why would she be taking valium?” He put the bottle in an evidence bag.

“Lieutenant,” Fouquet said, “would you go and ask _Mademoiselle_ Baudin if she has a prescription for anything? Don’t mention this.”

Athos went back to the living room. “Fleur, are you taking any medication?” Constance’s eyes grew wide.

“Only the contraceptive pill, _monsieur_.”

“And nothing else?”

“Nothing, no.”

_Damn_. He reported this to Fouquet. “Hmmm. There was diazepam in your brother’s blood, but he was taking it anyway.”

“But a little extra in his nightcap would mean he slept very soundly.”

“Soundly enough to be killed.”

Perrault kept searching. Fouquet returned to the living room and sat opposite Fleur. “ _Mademoiselle_ Baudin, why was this in your room?” He showed her the bag with the bottle inside.

“What is it? I’ve never seen it before.”

“It’s a bottle of oral valium solution. A sedative. Is it yours?”

“No. I told you, I don’t know where it came from.”

Fouquet nodded. “Very well.” He went around the table, and asked her to stand up. He produced handcuffs and put them on her.Fleur Baudin, I am placing you under arrest for administering a poison, and on suspicion of murder.”

“No! I didn’t do anything! You can’t arrest me, I’m innocent!”

“Fleur.” Athos tried again. “Fleur, be calm!”

“You fuck off!”

Constance went to her side. “Fleur, calm down, okay? We will help you. If you’re innocent, we will make sure you are all right.”

“If I hadn’t spoken to you, I would be all right now!”

“Lieutenant, your assistance, if you please?”

Athos reluctantly gave him what he wanted, and helped him take Fleur out to their car. Perrault joined them. “Nothing else in her room.”

“What about the other rooms?” Athos asked.

“I’ll keep searching. Will you assist me, lieutenant?”

“If you wish.”

“I’ll take this one back to the station and have her put into custody. I’ll send a patrol car out to you.”

Athos watched Fouquet drive off. “Lieutenant?”

Athos shook himself. “We should do Luc Brujon’s rooms as well.”

Two hours later, nothing more was found, though Luc Brujon quit on the spot when he learned the news and stormed off the property.

“Dear God,” Athos’s father said when Athos told him. “What a mess.”

“Paul said he could keep an eye on the horses, and I can help of course. I don’t know what you want to do about a cook.”

“I can cook,” Constance said. “Until you have a replacement.”

“Thank you, my dear. Who would have thought it? Fleur is such a sweet girl, and a very good cook. She had excellent references. All the staff do.”

“I don’t think she did it,” Athos said.

“What about the valium?” Constance asked.

“I don’t have an explanation for that.”

_Papa_ sighed. “I better tell your mother. What a Xmas this is turning out to be.”

He went ahead into the house. Constance took Athos’s arm. “If Fleur did it, Anne is innocent, and if Anne did it, Fleur is innocent. How can they have both of them in custody?”

“Fleur did poison Thomas.”

“Yes, but not seriously.”

“She could have killed him if she was wrong about the effects of the allergy. But I take your point.”

“None of this feels right, Athos.”

“Why do I think you could have everyone in jail except me and you and you would still think that?”

“I’m just trying—”

He turned and kissed her to shut her up. “Joking, love. I agree for what it’s worth. Murder in hot blood, I can believe with those two. Not this long term, clumsy attack.”

“So you agree it was clumsy.”

“Yes, I agree with you. Stop sounding so smug.”

She made a face. “I’m not smug, I’m worried. I don’t want an abused woman in prison when she has no reason to be.”

“I thought you would hate her.”

“She said that, you know. I told her, it’s between the two of you. What do we do now?”

“Now, I’d better check the horses have all they need, and you better go see what there is for supper. Speak to _maman_ after that. She doesn’t need this on top of her illness.”

Constance nodded. “No, she really doesn’t.”

***********************

Fortunately, Constance wasn’t one to be intimidated by big kitchens, so the task Athos had suggested was something she could manage. Fleur had prepared a weekly menu, though the entry for Christmas Eve had a big question mark over it. She had been preparing chicken chasseur, so Constance set about finishing that. Kate came in as she was getting started. “Oh, you shouldn’t have to do this, _madame_.”

“Fleur’s been arrested, so someone has to, and cooking is something I can do. If you want to make sure I’ve covered everything for everyone, you're welcome to.”

“Arrested? Why?”

“Suspicion of murder.”

Kate gasped. “No! Not Fleur. She’s such a good girl.”

“She’s only a couple of years younger than me,” Constance said. “And she did poison Thomas.”

“But that was just lemon, _madame_. Nothing dangerous.”

“It could have been. Anyway, that’s what’s happened. You should see if _Madame_ de la Fère needs anything.”

“As you wish, _madame_.”

The lemon thing bothered Constance. On the one hand, Thomas had suffered very little. On the other hand, Constance had had a friend at school who nearly died because someone snuck peanuts into her food as a joke. But was the ability to poison food the same as sticking a carving knife in someone’s chest?

At least there was evidence Fleur wanted to hurt Thomas. There was none so far that Anne had done so. Constance wondered what the new round of questioning would turn up, and if Anne would admit anything. 

With the chicken cooked, she left it on the stove, and busied herself making dough for croissants in the morning. While she rolled and kneaded, her mind kept going back to the walkthrough she had done in her mind of how Anne was supposed to have attacked Kate. She just couldn’t make it work in her head. It bothered her so much that when Athos came to the kitchen just as she was setting the dough to rest for the first time, she pulled out a knife and handed it to him. 

“My love, are you trying to tell me something?”

“Yes. Come upstairs and let me try and cut you with this.” 

His eyebrows lifted to his hairline. “If that’s what you really want.”

She lay down on their bed. “Okay, I’ll be Anne.”

“Not in a million years.”

She made a face. “This is serious, Athos.”

“I know. Sorry, it’s been a long day.”

“Yes, it has. Let me lie down. Now, put the knife in my left hand because I’m right-handed. Okay, now, shake me awake.”

Athos did so, and in slow motion, Constance slashed at his right arm. “No, that’s not right. Try again.”

Over and over, with him changing position, and Constance varying the angle she used, they couldn’t make a cut corresponding to the one on Kate’s forearm. “Everything tells me that if Anne had swung wildly in surprise or fright, it would be a cut on her upper body, not her forearm.”

“The cut is real, though.”

“I know.”

Athos stood and put the knife down on the bedside table. “We have two women under arrest for Thomas’s murder and that’s still not enough?”

“I’m just confused, that’s all. She definitely said she put her hands on both of Anne’s shoulders, right? Not on one side?”

“She definitely said that, yes.”

“Could she be lying?”

Athos sighed. “Darling, anyone could be lying, especially in this kind of case. But Kate has even less motive than you attribute to Anne.”

“Unless she’s lying about Thomas not attacking her.”

“Or, more likely, she's mistaken. Misremembering. People do that, especially in an unexpectedly violent situation."

She nodded. ”That's more likely. She might not have realised exactly when she was injured."

"Then let's leave it, unless you think we should pack all the staff off to Périgueux for Fouquet to interrogate.”

Constance punched him lightly on the arm. “Now you’re being silly.”

“Not entirely.” He sat on the bed. “I’m shattered.”

“Me too. I bet you wish I’d kept my big mouth shut.”

“No. I do not. You were right and I was wrong.”

She pulled herself up next to him. “Now I know you’re not Jacques. He would have had a heart attack rather than admit he was wrong about anything.”

“No one is infallible, and you’re not emotionally involved in this.”

“More than you realise. I can’t help but identify with Anne, a little.”

“I thought so.” He kissed her on the cheek. “It’s very hard to accept what Thomas was like.”

“If it was Jean, I’d be devastated.”

“We were once so close. I resented Anne for destroying that more than her leaving me.”

“Your mum says he’s as much to blame as she is.”

“Yes. More, I think. I don’t know.”

She clung to him for a bit, then sat up. “I’d better go downstairs. There’s a lot to do.”

“Let me help. It’ll keep my mind off all this.”


	9. Chapter 9

_Maman_ was devastated by the new turn of events, as Athos could have predicted. “This is not right, Athos. We must find the truth. Olivier, we must pay for lawyers, and any investigations that are needed.”

Athos put his arm around her. “ _Maman_ , the state will provide all that, but yes, we can do more. _Papa_ , your company did security checks on all the employees?”

“Not on Fleur or Kate, because we hired them through an agency that did all that for us. We checked the references ourselves.”

“Then would you allow me to go to that firm and look through the records? Are they local?”

“Yes, they were, but they went out of business I believe. I’ll give you that information in the morning. I’m...too tired to think.”

That was a hell of an admission for his father, and both Athos and his mother looked at him in concern. “We should eat early,” _Maman_ said. “Start afresh in the morning.”

“Athos, I’m going to leave this to you, I’m sorry. I have a funeral to arrange. Excuse me.”

His father walked slowly from the room, looking more like a ninety-year-old than a fit and healthy sixty-seven. “This is a nightmare,” _Maman_ murmured. “How do we come through this, Athos?”

“With the help of those who love us. At least, that’s how I did. If I have to, I’ll quit the police force and move down here.”

“And Constance?”

“Would agree.”

“But would she join you? Would you give her up for us?”

His heart stuttered. “I...would hope not to.”

“Nonsense.” His mother sat up straighter. “There is no question of you doing any such thing. Don’t even suggest it. We’ve lived our life. Now it’s your time.”

His arm tightened around her. “ _Maman_ , a life without honour is no life. And a life where I tossed you and _Papa_ aside for my own selfish reasons, would be worthless to me.”

“Oh, now you’re making me cry.” And she did. He stroked her hair and wished desperately for a time machine so he could go back and fix this mess.

They did all retire early, but Athos and Constance sat up in bed, talking, reading emails. “Aramis and Sylvie want to come down for the funeral,” Constance said.

“Tell them not to. It’s unnecessary for my sake.”

“That’s what I thought. Does Porthos know?”

“Of course. The captain told him. He’s already texted me.”

She nodded as she read the message. “I wish he and d’Artagnan were here. I feel nothing in the world could harm us with those two around.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Should I be insulted, my love?”

“No. But d’Artagnan is my knight in shining armour now. He did save my life.”

“He did, and he is forever my hero for that too. I miss them as well. I’m going to call Porthos.”

He dialled the number and Porthos picked up almost immediately. “Athos, mate. How are you doing?”

“Things have been better, my friend. May I ask a favour?”

“Anytime.”

“Would you run a check tomorrow on three employees of my parents? Fleur Baudin, Luc Brujon, and an English woman, Kate Ashbury from Norfolk. All resident at my parents’ house. I’ll text you the address.”

“Will do. What’s this got to do with Anne, though?”

Athos explained, and Porthos whistled. “Holy fuck.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

“But what about Anne?”

“I don’t know. Constance is convinced she’s innocent, or at least there’s more going on than we know.”

“ _Constance_ is convinced?”

Athos reached out for her hand. “My love loves justice.”

Porthos chuckled. “Looks like. I’ll do the best I can, though the English woman might take a bit longer. Are you part of the investigation?”

“No, though the detectives here are ordering me around like the Parisian ones do.”

“Some holiday.”

“Yes. How are you both?”

“Good. We’ve managed to get shifts that align, so we’re seeing a lot of each other, and having a good time.”

“Wish I was there.”

“If you were here, I wouldn’t be.”

Athos smiled. “No, I suppose not. Thank you.”

“Talk soon. Love to Constance.”

Athos hung up. “Sends his love.”

“Thank you. How soon can I see Anne?”

“Probably not until the day after tomorrow at the earliest.”

“Right. Um, it’s not possible that Fèron paid one of your dad’s guards to kill Thomas, is it?”

“But why him and not her? She’s the witness, not Thomas.”

“Yeah, of course. Damn.”

He squeezed her hand. “Much as I hate to admit it, it has to be someone in the house. And since we can rule out the two of us and my parents, that leaves the staff.”

“You didn’t ask Porthos to check out Paul? Or Matthieu?”

“They’ve both been with my parents for so long, and they’re both ex-Army. If either had killed Thomas, they wouldn’t been so damn obvious.” She looked at him until he realised the problem. “Unless that was done deliberately to throw us off the scent. All right, I’ll ask Porthos to check them too.”

He sent the text, then put the phone away. “I need a hug.”

Constance immediately flung her arms around him and held him tight. He sank into the embrace, already feeling the stress leaving him. “Hard to admit that?” she murmured.

“Not to you. _Maman_ needs a hug too. And my father.”

“Then we need to do something about that.” She kissed him on the neck and cheek, stroking his hair. How did she do it? Every time, it was like being reborn.

_Maman_ was right. He couldn’t give up Constance. But he would not walk away from his parents either. There had to be an answer that let him have both.

***********************

The house phone started ringing while Constance and Athos were making breakfast for the family. _Papa_ answered it in the bedroom, and came down to find Athos to tell him the news. “Fleur has been released. There’s nothing in the test results to show there was valium in the whisky, and they have no proof the drug belongs to her.”

Athos dried his hands. “What about the lemon?”

“She could be still charged over that, but I urged them not to. Since Thomas is dead and it was a silly prank provoked by his assault, I have no taste to pursue this.”

“I agree, _Papa_. Did you sleep well?”

His father only grunted. “I’ll take our tray up if it’s ready.”

“Croissants coming now,” Constance said, filling the basket on the tray Athos had made for his parents. “Will Fleur come back here?”

“No. She’ll go to her parents for now. We should talk about what to do. All of us together, I mean.”

“Of course,” Athos said, though this was unprecedented in his experience. _Papa_ prided himself on making decisions without leaning on others.

His father took the tray away. Kate came in not long after that. “Ah, you have been hard at work.”

“Yes,” Athos said. “Fleur has been released, we’ve been told.”

“Oh!” She took a few moments to collect herself. “That’s good news. Will she return here?”

“Very likely, but until then we’ll have to muddle through.”

“Yes, indeed.” She went to the fridge and extracted a plate. “I usually eat in my room. Do you need anything?”

“No, we’re fine. Thank you.”

Constance sat down at the table and poured their coffee. “Do you think Fleur should come back?”

“It would solve many problems, but can we trust her? Can my parents? What if she had a grudge against _Maman_ and adulterated her food while she was ill?”

“If there has been no trouble until now, and Thomas was as vile as she said, I’d say it was a small risk. But not no risk.”

“No.” Athos sipped his coffee. “I’ve offered to quit the police and move down here.”

Constance went still, staring at him. Then she picked up a croissant, broke it, and buttered it carefully. “It would make sense,” she said, looking only at the food.

“Constance.” She looked up. “I would do nothing that didn’t involve you.”

“Oh. Well, of course. But you must consider them first. Especially your mother. They’re older, and you won’t have them forever. Now you’re the only child they have.”

“Constance. Love.” She looked up again, and he reached for her wrist. “You’re the centre of my being. I can’t live happily without you. Life would taste of ashes.”

“Oh.” She gave him a wobbly smile. “I feel the same. But your mother—”

“Forbade me from giving you up for any reason.”

“Oh!” The smile grew firmer. “So what then?”

“I don’t know. But we should talk about it. I’ve been avoiding it, thinking they were fine. But this proves they are not. Not enough, at least.”

“No. First things first. They need a cook and a groom.” She looked at her watch. “I should find out what agency they want to use.”

“And I should check the horses again.”

“Arrange a visit for Anne too, please.”

“Yes, of course. Although if Fleur is innocent, we’re back to her as our main suspect.”

Her chin went up. “Makes no difference to whether or not she’s entitled to basic dignity, Athos.”

“I do not deserve you, love.”

She smiled sweetly. “Bullshit.”

Athos half chuckled. His bride to be had a potty mouth sometimes.

The horses were fine, though a little exercise wouldn’t go astray. Maybe later in the day, if it didn’t snow. Athos dropped in on Paul to give him the news about Fleur. “If Luc is in contact, tell him he’s welcome to return. No grudges held.”

“And her?”

“My parents are open to discussion on that. Tell him I said so.”

“I will, _monsieur_ , and thank you. Young people make mistakes and it shouldn’t ruin their lives, I think.”

“I agree.”

The request to visit Anne could be made online, so Athos found out what exactly was needed, then sent Constance an email with the information.

By the time he was done, his parents were in his mother’s sitting room. Bearing Constance's words in mind, he went to his mother’s side and hugged her, much to her astonishment. “What’s come over you, Athos?”

“Making up for lost opportunities, _Maman_.”

She smiled. “Well, thank you. Constance will be back in a moment. We were discussing Fleur.”

“And?”

_Papa_ cleared his throat. “I have two problems with her. One, the actual administration of a poison, and two, her lying about it when she was called on it. One has to have complete trust in the people who prepare your food, as one must have in a doctor or nurse. God forbid she should try this on your mother.”

“Cooks are sacked for less than this,” _Maman_ said.

“On the other hand, she was sexually assaulted in this house, as were other women, and we as a family failed to protect any of them,” Athos said. Constance came in at that point and sat beside him. “I feel a responsibility as Thomas’s brother to make amends.”

“We could pay her compensation,” _Papa_ said. “Without allowing her another chance to hurt us.”

“Constance, what do you think?” _Maman_ asked. “Take her back or pay her off? You own a food business, after all.”

“Yes, I do.” She appeared to be thinking, and Athos didn’t push her to hurry. “Legally, you are open to being sued whether you keep her or not. If a guest is harmed because of her, then they sue. If you sack her, then she could sue. I’m sure you know better than me, _monsieur_ ,” she said to _Papa_ , who nodded. “But if she wants to come back—which we don’t know—and you want her back, then it must be with every warning that she only escaped prosecution this time by the skin of her teeth, and you won’t hesitate to bring the law in next time. Put her on probation, put it in writing, make sure she understands just how serious this was. If you decide to pay her off instead, then I’m sure you know how to handle that.”

“Very well put,” _Papa_ said, and he smiled at Constance which made her blush. “Claire, my love?”

“I’m so sick at all this. I want to be merciful. Athos?”

“Merciful but cautious. I can put the fear of the law into her, if you like.”

“Then we take her back,” _Maman_ said. “ _If_ she wants to come. Constance, my laptop is over there. Her parents’ number will be in my contacts, I think.”

“Now that’s settled,” _Papa_ said, “the funeral.”

“ _Papa_ , let me call the funeral directors. They will come to you. _Maman_ , Constance could speak to Fleur or her parents.”

“By all means,” _Maman_ said, looking somewhat amused. “It’s so good to have you taking charge, Athos.”

“I only wish to help.”

“We appreciate it, son,” his father said. “Thank you.”

Athos was close enough to reach his father’s hand, so he took it and squeezed it. “My pleasure, _Papa_.” The surprised smile on his father’s face was worth it.

Fleur did want to return, so Athos arranged to pick her up and bring her back to the house. The funeral directors said they would come out the following morning. And not long after Athos finished talking to them, Paul came into the house with a hangdog Luc Brujon trailing after him. Athos went out to speak to the lad. “You wish to withdraw your resignation?”

“Yes, _monsieur_. Please, I spoke hastily.”

“I understand that. Do _you_ understand that Fleur’s behaviour over the poisoning was very serious and dangerous and that my parents have every right to be angry and to have her prosecuted?”

“Yes, _monsieur_ ,” he mumbled.

“Then I suggest you start by taking the horses out for a bit of a run around. Constance and I are off to pick up your girlfriend and bring her back to start work again here.”

“Thank you, _monsieur_!” He pumped Athos’s hand, then ran out of the house toward the stables.

Paul grinned and shook his head. “Young love, eh?”

“Horrible, isn’t it.”

“I’ll bring your car around, _monsieur_. It’s a good thing _Madame_ and _Monsieur_ de la Fère are doing.”

“I’ll let them know you think so.”

Luc’s return was a bit of good news Athos was glad to pass on. “Er, _Papa_ , the horses need exercise. Maybe we should go for a ride later? You and me, perhaps Constance?”

“If you like, but Claire—”

“Will be fine,” _Maman_ said firmly. “And when my insides are fully healed, I’ll join you on one again, I promise you.”

“I’ll hold you to that, my love.”

As Athos and Constance drove out of the estate, down the long lane to the main road, Constance exhaled. “It’s a relief to get away for a little bit.”

“Yes. Sorry it’s been such a rotten holiday.”

“It’s not so bad. At least it’s with you.”

Athos remembered she’d said much the same when they thought they were about to be drowned in a disused water tank, and his heart was suddenly too full to speak. He just glanced at her and smiled, hoping she understood.

Fleur was a little more defiant than her boyfriend over her return, and angry with Constance that she had betrayed her trust. “I wouldn’t have spoken to you if I knew you’d tell tales,” she said on the doorstep of her parents’ house.

“It’s a question of murder, Fleur. A man is dead.”

“A bad man.”

“Even so, murder can’t go unpunished,” Athos said. “Nor can poisoning.”

She stiffened. “I thought they weren’t going to bring charges.”

“They’re not, because my father asked them not to. That doesn’t mean we can ignore it. Do you understand what will happen if you repeat that game? If you are even suspected of it?”

“Game?”

“Trick. The lemon,” Constance said. “Do you understand? You’ll be the first suspect, and if you’re the guilty party, you will be charged. No second chance. And no more lies either.” 

Fleur hung her head, a sulky pout on her face. “Yeah, I understand.”

“Look at me and say it clearly,” Athos said.

“I understand. I won’t do it again.”

“Not even if you are attacked. If something like that happens, you must tell my parents. They wouldn’t have let Thomas get away with it if they had been told.”

“But he’s their son. Was.”

“You don’t know my father if you think that makes a difference. Get in the car, please.”

Athos had hoped for a more positive acceptance of the realities but the girl clearly needed more growing up. Hopefully she would do that without endangering anyone else’s health.

“One more thing,” he said before he started the engine. “If you hurt my mother with a trick like this, there will be nowhere you can hide from me.”

“You ain’t got the right to say that.”

Constance turned around to face the girl. “He has. And if he doesn’t find you, I will. Thomas was a creep, so I’m not crying for him. But _Madame_ is another thing altogether.”

“All right. Stop glaring, I won’t touch her. I like her.”

“Good. Then we’re clear.”

He started the car and drove off. Constance put her hand on his shoulder and left it there all the way back to the house.

At the house, he sent Fleur in to speak to his parents, but didn’t go in himself. “I want to talk to Roger,” he told Constance, who grinned.

“This, I have to see.”

Roger was fifteen, a birthday gift when Athos turned twenty. Back then he’d been a knobbly-kneed colt, and had grown into a magnificent stallion with an attitude. “He’s beautiful,” Constance said after Athos introduced her.

“He’s a bastard,” Athos said fondly. “It’s been three years since I rode him.”

“No wonder he’s cranky,” she said. “If you didn’t ride me for three years, I’d be furious with you.”

He grinned at the innuendo. “I daren’t let you ride him. He tolerates _Papa_ but not _Maman_.” He scratched under Roger’s chin and looked around for the carrots. The stallion accepted the offerings as his due, snorting with annoyance when Athos became too affectionate. “Ratbag.”

“He just knows how perfect he is, that’s all,” Constance said. “I’d never ride something this big.”

“You can take out _Maman_ ’s old girl. She’s quiet.” He introduced Constance to Marigold, the gentle bay mare. “She’s twenty. Roger’s mother, in fact.”

“Oh, she’s lovely.” Athos encouraged Constance to make friends, showing her where to pet her, how not to startle her. He planned to show her how to saddle and mount up before they went out for a ride.

His phone rang. “Hello, Porthos.”

“Hey. I ran those checks for you. I’ve emailed what I found. Brujon and Baudin are clean. Kate Ashbury isn’t English. Dunno why you thought that. Her real name is Catherine de Garouville. Ashbury’s her mother’s maiden name.”

Athos felt the world grind to a halt around him. “Where from?” he choked out.

“Born in a place called Pinon.”

“Thank you, Porthos. I’ll call you back.”

“Okay.”

Constance noticed him staring into space. “Athos?”

“I need to speak to my parents.”

“Should I come with you?”

He nodded and walked back across the courtyard to the house. He went straight to the sitting room. “ _Maman_ , do you still have that box of newspaper clippings and photos and things from when we were in high school?”

“Yes, of course I do. They’re in the library. Let me—”

_Papa_ stood. “I’ll help you find them, Athos. Claire, I know where they are.”

His father led the way into the library, Constance trailing behind, not asking any questions, fortunately. When they got to the library, Athos closed the door and locked it. “Son?”

“I’ll explain in a moment. May I see the box, please?”

_Papa_ fetched it down from a shelf, and set it on the table. Like everything else his parents kept, the clippings and other material were meticulously sorted by date, so Athos quickly found what he wanted. “Do you remember this, _Papa_?”

_Papa_ peered at it. “Oh yes. Thomas at the science fair.”

“And this girl with him. Catherine de Garouville.”

“Yes, I recall her. Mousy girl, very shy.”

“Constance, come and look.”

Constance leaned in, then looked at him. “That’s Kate, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Kate Ashbury is Catherine de Garouville. _Papa_ , you didn’t know?”

“Of course not. Kate is English.”

“Not according to my partner in Paris. Why would she conceal the fact she’d gone to school with the two of us?”

“She did?” Constance asked.

“She was in Thomas’s year. Three years below me.”

His father sat back. “I don’t think my heart can take much more of this, Athos.”

“I’m sorry, _Papa_.”

_Papa_ waved him off. “Not your fault. We have to ask her about this.”

“More than that, I think the detectives investigating the murder should. But we must talk to her first.”

“Very well. Do we have to involve your mother?”

“Let’s ask _Maman_ about it.”

Athos brought the box of clippings with him to the sitting room. _Papa_ went over to the sofa. “Looks like we have uncovered another secret, Claire.”

_Maman_ looked at the clipping as Athos explained. “Oh yes, I see it now. Hasn't she changed. She had quite a crush on you, Athos, or so Thomas told me.”

He blinked in surprise. Constance looked at him. “You didn’t know?”

“I barely registered her existence. There was quite an age gap. I mean, for high school.”

“That could be a motive right there.” Athos frowned in confusion. “Is this her way of getting you for herself?”

“Then why attack Thomas? Why not attack you?”

“Maybe I’m next?”

“That doesn’t make any sense. We should talk to her.”

“Yes,” _Papa_ said. “But let’s take a couple of precautions first.” He called Paul on the estate phone and asked him to come to them. Then he spoke to the house security and asked for two men to stand outside the front door and not to let anyone out without his permission. When Paul arrived, he asked him to stand outside the sitting room door and kept it closed, no matter what.

“Expecting trouble, boss?”

“Is there anything else these days, Paul?”

“Understood.” He went outside and took up position.

Athos understood what his father was trying to do, but he still had trouble accepting that Kate—Catherine—had any murderous intent towards anyone. Nonetheless, however puzzling the ‘why’, the ‘how’ for someone in her privileged position of trust was amazingly easy, and Constance’s doubts over the arm injury now seemed to have a basis in fact.

“Constance, please ring the bell for Kate,” _Maman_ said when all was ready. She had refused to leave the room so Athos sat next to her, ready to protect her if necessary.

Kate came within a minute. “Yes, _madame_?”

“Have a seat, Kate. My son has a couple of questions for you.”

Kate sat down. “What’s this about, _monsieur_?”

“You told me you were from Norfolk, is that correct?”

“Yes.” The slightest flicker in her eyes.

“When you were in fact born in Pinon, near Paris. And your name is Catherine de Garouville.”

Now she was afraid, Athos saw. “No, you’re mistaken.”

“I don’t think so. Constance?”

Constance laid the clipping in front of her. “Even I recognise you from this, Kate.”

The woman moved so fast, Athos had no hope of reaching her before she had Constance in an armlock, a small fruit knife at her throat. “Stay back, Athos. All of you.”

“Kate, let her go.” _Maman_ ’s voice was admirably calm. “There is no need for violence.”

_Papa_ was on his feet, looking at Athos. Athos stood and walked slowly towards Kate, stopping when she jerked the knife harder against Constance's throat. “I said, stay back.”

Athos held his hands away from his sides. “Why, Kate? Why did you kill Thomas?”

“Because he raped me. Because he ruined my _life_!”

_Maman_ made a distressed sound but didn't move. “When did he rape you?” Athos asked.

“When I was fifteen, and you were oh so lordly and aloof. Didn’t even know I existed, did you? I _loved_ you, Athos! And that little shit knew it, and used it, and raped me, left me pregnant. I told my father and he called me a slut. Told me to get rid of the child. So I went to my mother in England and had the baby there. So while you and your precious brother went off to good universities and onto wonderful careers, I was stuck with my mother helping her clean offices. My _grandmother_ had to raise my daughter. Now my girl wants nothing to do with me!” Spit flew from her mouth and her grip on Constance increased to the point Constance whimpered a little in pain.

“You’re hurting her,” Athos said.

“Good. You all deserve to be hurt. That bitch you married didn’t even want you enough to stay. Now I’ve got rid of two for the price of one.”

“You staged the scene. Put the knife in her hand. Bloodied her nightdress with a cut you inflicted on yourself.”

Kate sneered. “Clever, aren’t you?”

“And the valium was yours, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, but what difference does it make now? I’m leaving, and you’re going to let me, or this one will end up as dead as your dear brother.” 

“Athos, don’t let her get away,” Constance said, her voice steady.

“If you listen to her, you’ll lose a girlfriend,” Kate said nastily. “Now open that door and tell Paul to get out of the way.”

Athos exchanged a glance with his father. He walked over to the door and opened it. “Paul, stand aside. Let Kate leave.”

Paul looked in, saw the situation, and nodded. “As you wish, _monsieur_.” He moved away.

“Right. I’m taking your car, Athos. Don’t try to stop me.”

“I won’t.”

Kate dragged Constance through the door, keeping her eyes on Athos, then shrieked and fell as Paul made a flying tackle and dragged her to the ground. Athos leapt forward and yanked Constance clear, throwing her over to his father. 

“Call the police!” he yelled as he pinned Kate to the ground and took the knife from her hand. 

After that, with the help of the house’s security and other male members of staff, it was simple to restrain the woman and tie her to a chair in the main living room. Athos left Paul and the guards to watch her while he returned to the sitting room to check on Constance. “Are you hurt?”

“Pride, mostly. Maybe a few bruises.”

He checked her neck, then hugged her. “God, I was scared.”

“ _You_ were scared! I would be grateful if the world could arrange for me not to be threatened with death a third time this year!”

“Oh my love, I'm so sorry.”

She let him hold her for a few seconds, then pushed him back. “You have work to do. I’ll look after things here.”

“You’ll do no such thing, young lady,” _Papa_ said sternly. “I’m in charge of that. Go, sit by Claire, and take it easy.”

“Yes, _monsieur_ ,” she said meekly.

“Is it over now, Athos?” his mother asked. “Please say it is.”

“Nearly, _maman_.”

“We need to bring Anne home,” _Papa_ said. “And I mean _here_. At least for now.”

“Yes,” Athos agreed. “It’s only right.”


	10. Chapter 10

After all the drama involved in arresting Kate—Catherine—and being interviewed over what they’d all heard her say, and after a chastened Fleur made them lunch, and Constance had spoken to an agency who could find them another housekeeper at short notice for an exorbitant fee, Athos received word that Anne was free to go. He told the authorities that someone from the house would collect her.

“I’ll do that,” Constance said firmly.

“Why, love?”

“Because I know best how she might feel. And she’s still jumpy around you, even without the rest of it.”

“As you wish,” Athos said, looking puzzled. 

Constance kissed him. “Look after your parents.”

Before she left, she collected a thermos of coffee and some brownies Fleur had made, as well as a warm coat and scarf. The _maison d’arrêt_ in Périgueux was an appropriately grim, grey and old building that made her shiver to contemplate, and it wasn’t surprising that by the time Anne emerged, after an hour or more of administrative hoops for Constance to jump through, she looked nearly as grey and old as the prison itself.

Anne did a double take to see Constance there. “Why you?”

Constance smiled. “Why not me? Here.” She took Anne’s plastic bag of belongings, put the coat and scarf around her, and once Anne was in the car, handed over the coffee and treats. “Thought you might like something nice after all that.”

Anne’s responding look was confused, with only a tiny bit of hope. “Are you sure the family wants me to come back to the house?”

“ _Monsieur_ insisted. We all want you there, Athos included.”

Anne blinked, but said nothing else as Constance started the car and headed back to the estate. She wolfed down the brownies though, and Constance wondered how much she had eaten while imprisoned.

As they drew near the estate, night had fallen fully, and the lights looked bright and cheery. “No one explained what happened.” These were the first words Anne had spoken since they left the prison.

“You were set up. I was sure of it almost immediately. Turns out Kate the housekeeper was formerly Catherine, a schoolmate of Thomas and Athos. Thomas, uh, raped and impregnated her while she was still a child. Killing him was her revenge for ruining her life.”

“Thomas raped her?”

“Yes. Um...we’ve been hearing some awful stories about him. I’m sorry.”

Anne fell silent again, and said nothing more until they reached the house, where Paul met them and greeted them warmly. “Welcome back, _Madame_ Anne. We are all very happy to see you again.”

“I wouldn’t be sure of that,” she murmured. She strode into the house ahead of Constance, who wondered how this would all go.

Athos’s father was there to meet them in the hall. He bowed. “Anne, I am so sorry for what you have suffered. Please, consider this your home until you are ready to return to Paris.”

Anne stood in apparent shock. It took Athos appearing from a doorway to get a reaction out of her. “Is this real? Or are you all making fun of me?”

Athos took her hands. “No, we are not. Constance was convinced of your innocence, and has worked harder than anyone to prove it. You’re a victim here, too. We’re all struggling.”

“Just accept it for what it looks like,” Constance murmured. “What would you like to do first?”

“Shower and change. And drink a bloody big glass of brandy.”

“Come with me,” Constance said. “We’ve made up a new room for you, and I’ll get the brandy.” She looked at Athos over Anne’s shoulder, and mouthed, “I’ve got this.”

Athos nodded. “Come down when you’re ready. Or ring the bell if you want to eat in your room. You’re welcome down here, though.”

“Really.” Anne sounded more than a tad sceptical.

“You really are,” Constance told her. “This way.”

Claire had insisted that Anne was to have the brightest room with the most windows, and Constance had turned all the lights on before she'd left to pick Anne up. The suitcase Anne had brought down had been unpacked into the drawers and a generous supply of fresh towels put out. They had wanted to take away as much of the memory of prison as they could, though Anne gave no sign their efforts were appreciated.

She headed straight for the bathroom, so Constance sat on the armchair and waited. A couple of minutes later, there was a quiet knock on the door. Athos stood there with a bottle of Armagnac and two glasses on a tray. Constance kissed him. "Thank you, darling."

"Ring the bell if you need help. Or supplies."

"Will do."

Anne took her time, which Constance couldn't begrudge her. It had to be one of the worst things in the world, to be imprisoned for a crime one hadn't committed. Worse still when the crime was the death of the man one loved.

Eventually she emerged, dressed in a thick dressing gown kept for guests. Constance pointed at the brandy. "As you requested."

Anne went over and poured a triple. "You?"

"Please."

Anne handed her a glass and sat on the bed, staring into the amber-coloured liquid. "Why you?"

"You'd prefer Athos?"

"Why did you think I was innocent?"

Constance sipped the brandy. "Apart from the ludicrous staging? Even though Thomas was being abusive to you, you weren't desperate enough to kill him. Nowhere near. I've been in your position. I know how much a woman will endure before she cracks." She took another sip. "And you would kill for passion, maybe, or be forced into it, but you're too intelligent to make such a botch of it."

Anne raised an eyebrow, then saluted Constance with her drink. "Pretty clever of you. But why care for Athos's ex?"

"I care for any woman being treated like Thomas was treating you. I do have one question though."

"Why trade Athos for a man like that?" Constance nodded. "Come on, you're smart. Tell me the reason."

"I think he can't have been like that in the beginning. My husband wasn't, not for a long time. You left Athos because you saw your dreams of a family life fading, feared you'd be nothing but a nurse for the rest of your life. And I bet Thomas took advantage of that, like he took advantage of Kate's crush on Athos at school. He was sweet and kind and courted you relentlessly. By the time he started abusing you, you were in love, you had burned your bridges with Athos, and maybe he had control of your affairs so tightly that you couldn't leave. You worked with him, for him. Leaving would mean destroying your life, starting again all alone, perhaps without any friends."

She drank some more brandy. "That's what I think, anyway."

The hand holding Anne's glass shook, and her eyes were bright in the electric light. "You know it all, then."

"You wanted to leave. Emigrate. Now you can."

Anne shook her head, then dashed the tears from her eyes. "I'm broke. I lent him everything I had for a property investment. He was up to his ears in debt. His estate is worth nothing to me. If Kate's child lives, it'll get nothing either. I sit before you like a newborn, naked and owning nothing."

"I have money, an apartment sitting empty, contacts I can use. I won't sit by while a woman needs help. You have my word."

Anne stared. "One more time. Why. You. I treated Athos very badly. I frightened you, tried to wreck his stability. You owe me nothing. So...why?"

"I I can't be a friend to the friendless, kind to the abused, offer a home and comfort to one in need at Xmas, when can I? My answer is, I want to. You deserve better."

"You have no idea what I'm like, who I am."

Constance found her glass was empty so she went over and filled it. She held up the bottle, and Anne nodded. Her hand wobbled as she poured. She was probably a little tiddly. She put the bottle back and came back to stand in front of Anne. 

"You were—still are—worthy of Athos's love and regard. That tells me enough. Stop fighting. You're safe and you’ll be kept that way."

Anne gave her a teary smile. "Looks like Athos traded up." She tossed back the drink in one go, then coughed. "God, I'm hungry."

Constance laughed. "So am I. Let's eat."

***********************

Like a frightened kitten, Anne took a while to be coaxed from her mental prison. She did come down for dinner, but said little, and left as soon as she had finished. She came down for breakfast and hesitated when she saw Athos and Constance already there. Constance smiled. "Join us. Athos is telling me how he'll teach me to ride."

Anne nodded, pouring herself a coffee. Athos continued his explanation of the parts of the saddle and things, which only confused Constance. "Just put her up and talk her for a walk on Marigold," Anne finally said.

"Would you like that?" he asked Constance. 

"It might be easier," she admitted.

He turned to Anne. "Join us?"

"I don't...aren't you talking to the funeral director this morning?"

"Yes."

"That's why we're planning this," Constance explained. "Something nice to look forward to after. It's a lovely crisp morning. You should come. You can all laugh at me."

"All right."

Athos's father invited Anne to join the discussion about the funeral, but she declined. Claire asked Constance and Anne to join her instead. "I know I should be in there, but I can't bear the idea. Olivier knows what we want. Are you going riding? Marigold will enjoy getting out. I have to stay here and meet housekeepers."

Claire chatted away, covering the awkwardness and drawing Anne into the conversation. Anne revealed more about Thomas's financial situation, and her own. Claire listened, but didn't comment. She did say that they wanted to help Kate's daughter—their grandchild—if she needed it. 

"Did he know?" Anne asked. "About the child?"

"We don't know," Claire said.

"He didn't want children. So he said."

Constance wondered if that was a lie, designed to tempt an infertile woman.

"Whether he did or not, she exists, and we have a duty," Claire said. "If only Kate had come to us."

Constance sipped her coffee and thought of how much sorrow could have been avoided.

Athos and his father came to join them after an hour. Athos looked miserable so Constance sat by him and held his hand. "The good news is that the service and cremation can take place before New Year," he told them.

"Thomas's firm indicated there was no need to accommodate them, as a memorial service can held in Paris later," his father added. "So it will be a simple, secular service, and his ashes buried here. In light of what we have learned about his...behaviour, we thought it best to keep it small. Anne?"

"I agree." She covered her mouth and closed her eyes. Constance looked at Athos, then rose and went to her.

"Do you want some time?"

Anne shook her head, but then began to weep. Constance put her arm around her, and the others left the room.

"I miss him and I hate him, and he did these awful things. I don't know how to feel."

"No, you won't, not for a while. I was the same, only I knew I no longer loved my husband. Give yourself time, Anne. You've been through an awful time."

Anne sobbed onto Constance's shoulder. Poor woman hadn't even been given time to grieve before she'd been arrested.

She didn't take too long to settle down, and excused herself to wash her face. Athos came in to check on them, and Anne, returning just then, announced, "I would really love that ride now."

"Then let's go."

His father joined them and they walked to the stables. There, Athos and Luc boosted Constance into the saddle. “Oh God,” she said. “Is this what it’s like to be tall?”

Athos grinned. “A little.” He led her around the courtyard at a slow pace, then let her take the reins, explaining how to tell Marigold to turn or stop. “I’ll ride beside you, and we won’t go faster than a walk. _Papa_? You and Anne go ahead. We’ll only annoy you.”

Athos and Constance followed the others, but their slow pace left them lagging further and further behind. Anne and Athos’s father rode side by side, apparently chatting amicably. “This is nice,” Constance said.

“Yes. And you are beautiful.”

She smiled. “Flatterer.”

“Not your appearance, though it is always a pleasure. Your soul.”

“Because of Anne. Anyone would do the same. She needs help.”

“I wouldn’t have done it.”

She looked at him and shook her head. “You would have. I know it.”

“You flatter me too much.”

They rode two hours, Athos insisting she would regret it if she went longer. She discovered the truth of that when she was helped down and her legs were suddenly made of jelly. “Wow.”

“Told you. And you may be a little sore in the buttocks tomorrow.”

“Now you tell me,” she said, glaring and rubbing her butt. “I should make you carry me into the house.” Then she yelped as he picked her up to do just that. “No! Athos, your leg.”

He put her down, then kissed her while his hands played over her backside. “I need to make love to you.”

“Mmmm, the others will be a while. Let’s go.”


	11. Chapter 11

Between Thomas’s death and _Maman_ ’s illness, Xmas was necessarily a quiet affair. The staff who wished to go home were given the time off, and only Paul and Matthieu remained on the estate. The agency housekeeper did a quick clean and went home at lunchtime on Xmas eve. _Maman_ insisted on staying up for Midnight Mass in Périgueux, and when they came home, shared a small glass of brandy with them all, but Réveillon was delayed until lunch on Xmas day. Constance, Athos, and Anne cooked and cleaned up, with Paul and _Papa_ playing waiters.

Matthieu had provided a Yule log, and after lunch, everyone retreated to the rear living room with its large fireplace, to relax and enjoy the smell of the burning log and the wine sprinkled on it. Anne and _Papa_ went off to talk in the corner, while Athos sat with his mother. Constance, Paul and Matthieu played cards for hazelnuts. Athos was apparently about to marry a cardsharp, if Constance’s winnings were anything to go by.

“Is it wrong that I’m enjoying this?” his mother asked. “I keep thinking how boring Thomas would have found it. He always wanted lots of people around, but I couldn’t face it this year.”

“Not wrong at all, _Maman_ ,” Athos said. “May I ask, just this once, how you feel?”

“I feel well,” she said. “And just this once, I will tell you more. The surgery was a success, though they had to remove so much. The chemotherapy was awful and we will not speak of it.” She smiled. “But I’m over that, my body is healing, and I feel well. I don’t know for how long, so I won’t think of it.”

“Remission?”

“Is possible,” she said firmly. “Athos, I want you and Constance to be married here, with your friends, her friends, our friends. We will pay for everything. But it is my dearest wish to see the two of you wed in this house.”

He lifted her hand and kissed it. “ _Maman_ , nothing would give me more pleasure. We plan to go to the _mairie_ by the end of the month, then whatever you want us to do, we will. _Papa_ and Anne are becoming friends, it seems.”

“Bridges are being rebuilt,” she said, but with no explanation. “I want to go for a walk. Let’s go visit my horse. I should be able to ride again within a couple of weeks, so she’ll be pleased about that.”

***********************

The days after Xmas were so peaceful and pleasant, filled with riding, walking, leisurely meals, and, for Athos and Constance, lovemaking, that it was almost a shock to wake up on Wednesday and have to attend a funeral. Only Athos’s parents had the correct clothing, so Anne and Constance had to make do with black scarves, and for Athos, a borrowed suit. Not that anyone would have cared, since the attendees outside the family—local friends of Athos’s  parents—only numbered ten. Only Paul from the staff came, because he and one of the guards drove them. For obvious reasons, Fleur and Luc did _not_ wish to go.

Anne stood with Athos, while Constance stayed back, sitting next to Paul. It was how Constance wanted it. She had known Thomas less than half a day, had disliked him, and she had nothing to grieve for. Anne, however, came close to collapse a couple of times, and had to rely on Athos’s arm. His parents were stoic until the time came to load the coffin into the hearse, then his mother clutched her husband’s arm, and Constance saw tears on both their faces.

The funeral directors had arranged refreshments for the mourners, but no one stayed for long. Anne wanted to leave immediately, so Paul drove her back, then returned to collect the rest of them. It was all over by two.

Quite naturally, everyone—this time including all the staff—gathered in the rear living room. Something about the big log fire seemed appropriate. Athos’s father broke out the brandy again. With everyone holding a glass of something, he rose to speak. 

“Everyone, I’d like to say some words about Thomas, and his death. Some of you had good reason to dislike him, even hate him, and as the man who raised him, that shames me. I failed him as a father.”

Athos murmured “No,” and shook his head. His father gave him a stern look, and continued. “Nonetheless, he was my son, and I remember the good things about him. He was loved, and he did love. Now he’s gone, and the sins he committed have gone with him. The pain he caused remains, and I want you to know I will do all I can to remove it. No one he hurt will look to this family for help and find us wanting.”

He lifted his glass. “I ask you not to toast my son, but to salute the hope of healing, and of loving again.”

Glass were raised, and Constance wiped her eyes. Someone should have said this at Jacques’s funeral, instead of all the false compliments and encomiums his family had delivered.

“Now the funeral is over, the New Year approaches, and I want it to be as pleasant and enjoyable for all of you as we can make it. So let’s look forward to fresh starts and second chances, shall we?”

That improved the mood considerably. The family weren’t having a big party as such on New Year’s Eve, but they had invited friends, and all the staff were encouraged to invite their families. “I wish my family was here,” Constance said to Athos as they went riding again. “Or better still, our friends.”

“I know. There will be other times.”

The house transformed in less than two days. Decorations and lights were hung, food and wine brought in, and extra house staff hired to ready the bedrooms and dining rooms. Constance and Athos were forbidden from helping, but Anne was recruited for her experience as a personal assistant and in organising such things.

“I’ve organised lots of parties,” Constance protested to Athos as she drove them into town to pick up a few essentials on New Year’s Eve.

“Yes, love, but my parents said you’ve done enough and they want you to enjoy the rest of your break.”

“But Anne—”

“Desperately needs a distraction.” He patted her leg. “Let it go. It’s fine.”

They made a day of it, visiting the markets and exploring the countryside. They had a very late lunch in Bergerac and drove back to the estate after dark. The house was buzzing with activity, though Claire had taken refuge in her sitting room again. “Come and have tea with me, my dears,” she said.

“Shouldn’t we help?” Constance asked.

“Heavens no. You don’t even need to change unless you insist on a party frock, Athos.” He grinned at her joke. “Olivier and Anne have taken charge and they have so much energy. It makes me tired to think of it.”

Athos and his mother seemed to be sharing amusement at something only they knew about. Constance knew it was useless to try and prise it out of either of them, so she drank her tea and tried to puzzle out the mystery. However, they had given her no clues at all, damn them. 

After an hour, Claire pushed the tea tray away. “Very well, I should at least go and change. Constance, may I have your arm? Athos, do clear the tray away. Come and collect me in half an hour, both of you.”

Constance helped Claire up the stairs. “What are you up to?”

“Nothing at all,” she said serenely. “Just looking forward to a bit of fun with my family and friends.”

She didn’t fool Constance for a second.

Constance _had_ brought a party frock, and pinned on it the lovely brooch Athos had given her for Xmas. After he came up to shower and change, he asked her to put the scarf—her gift—around his neck. “There,” he said, looking at them both in the mirror.

“Very natty.”

“No one will see me. They’ll only look at you.”

“Oooh, don’t stare at me like that, or I’ll have to take you to bed and we’ll be late for your mother.”

He swung her around and made her laugh. “I’m sure she won’t mind,” he growled.

“Athos, behave.”

Exactly half an hour after they’d left the sitting room, Athos knocked on Claire’s bedroom door. She opened it. “Don’t you look lovely,” she said.

“I could say the same, _maman_.”

She did a careful twirl to show them her purple gown, over which she wore the silk shawl Constance and Athos had given her for Xmas. “I’ll do, I suppose. Let’s greet the guests.”

“I thought no one was arriving before eight,” Constance said as they made their slow way down the stairs. It was only six.

“A few are coming early by arrangement. They’re flying in, you see.”

“Ah.”

Luc had been roped in as door man for the evening, and wore a handsome formal suit for the occasion. “Your guests are here, _madame_ ,” he said as they approached the main hall. 

“Then show them in. Don’t keep them waiting.”

Luc opened the door. Constance had turned her head to speak to Athos, and heard, “Hey there, pretty lady.” 

Her head snapped around and her mouth fell open. “ _Porthos_!”

She ran up to him, and he swept her off her feet in a bear hug. “And d’Artagnan? How?”

“Don’t waste all your kisses on that oaf,” a familiar voice said.

_Aramis._ And he wasn’t alone. “Sylvie! and Berthe! Oh my god!”

Constance became dizzy from hugs and smiles and kisses from her friends. Athos stood off to the side with his mother, grinning smugly. When she extracted herself briefly, she went over and poked him on the shoulder, before kissing him hard. “You rat. You planned this and nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“Not his intention, my dear,” Claire said. “We wanted to do something special to thank you—thank you both—for what you did for us and for Thomas.”

“This is amazing! Thank you.” She kissed Claire’s cheek.

“Now, shoo. Go to the living room, all of you. Sylvie, your room is ready with everything you need for your daughter, and the babysitter is all arranged.”

“Thank you, _madame_.”

Athos led them all to the rear living room, and there Constance demanded to know how it had all been arranged, how they all were, and oh my god, Athos, you are such a darling man.

“It was _Papa_ ’s idea, and when _Papa_ wants something, _Papa_ gets it,” he said.

“Yeah. We got a phone call a week ago, asking if it was possible we could all be free over New Year, and with a bit of jiggling around, we managed it,” Porthos said.

“Called in many favours,” Aramis said. “Worth it though.”

“And _Papa_ chartered a plane. We’ll all go back with them on Monday,” Athos said.

She looked at him. “I thought you wanted to stay another week.”

“It’s been sorted out. We’ll talk later, okay?”

“Okay.”

Berthe had been grizzling on the hour long flight, but Aramis gave her a bottle and now she slept unconcerned in her _papa_ ’s arms, receiving the adoration of all. “Now she looks like a person,” Athos declared.

“She always looked like a person,” Constance scolded.

“No, she looked like Marcel Marceau before.” He grinned at the annoyed protests from Berthe’s parents. 

“You better not say that about ours,” Constance grumbled.

“Not if you value your life,” Porthos said. “I think she’s perfect.”

“She is. And so will ours be,” Athos said, apparently determined to get a smack before the evening was out.

Constance had never spent a happier New Year’s Eve. She called her family and had a long chat, then the rest of the evening she spent with the other people she loved most. Athos smiled all night long, as did Claire. His father wasn’t prone to emotional displays, but she could tell he was satisfied.

And Anne, in a sleek green dress, was in her element, circulating, quietly organising things and leaving Athos’s father to his guests. She was polite to Porthos and Aramis, who were polite back to her, and accepted Sylvie and D’Artagnan’s sympathies on her loss. She wasn’t happy—Constance didn’t expect her to be—but she was a long way from the lost looking soul Constance had collected from the prison.

She was the key to Athos’s cryptic announcement before the party. At breakfast, his father told them that Anne was to resign from her current position, and remain at the estate as manager and assistant, covering some of what Kate had done, and taking on other duties to ease the load on him so he could spend more time with Claire. She would stay for six months initially, to see if she liked it. The party had been a dry run.

“And that means, Athos,” Claire said, “you don’t have to feel guilty about staying in Paris. You’d be miserable here.”

“I wouldn’t—”

“Yes, you would,” Claire insisted. “But we want to see more of you. Both of you. So Olivier will pay for you to fly down as often as you can manage, and we will also come to Paris, staying with you if that’s agreeable.”

“Very,” Constance said. “We’d love that.”

“And if you agree, your wedding will be here.”

Athos had already told her of his parents’ wishes. “Yes, of course. But my mother—”

“Will be here,” his father said firmly.

“Well then,” Aramis said. “It sounds marvellous. And you won’t have a herd of d’Herblays to organise either.”

“So long as you three are there, it’ll be lovely,” Constance said. She turned to Anne who had been sitting silent at the end of the table. “Will you come?”

“Me?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want me to? It’s hardly appropriate.”

“Who gives a damn about that?”

Anne actually smiled a little. “If you don’t, I don’t. Athos?”

“Come to our wedding, Anne. If you want to.”

She looked at him for some time before answering. “Then, yes, I will.”

“Excellent,” his father said. “Now, ladies and gentlemen, we have all earned our rest, so please, go and enjoy yourselves.”

And they did for two and a half days, before bidding a teary farewell to Claire and Olivier—because he had finally invited Constance to call him by his name—at the house steps. “I will miss you both so much,” she said, hugging them both, much to Olivier’s consternation.

“And we will miss you.” Claire touched her cheek. “Come back soon, dear girl.”

“Please do,” Olivier said.

The fact they were travelling home with their friends made the farewells easier to bear. Watching Sylvie and Aramis with Berthe turned Constance’s mind to the next big milestone in her life. She wanted to marry Athos and have his babies _now._ Or at least, as soon as she finished her degree.

“I can’t remember why I dreaded coming down here so much,” Athos said as they took off at Périgueux.

“We could have done without the brutal murder,” she said, taking his hand.

“Yes. But now I know. All I want for Xmas—”

“Don’t you dare say it—”

“Is you.” 

“Oh God, _Athos_.” She threw a crumpled up napkin at him, and his friends groaned. He sat back and smirked while they made fun of him. 

Constance had never loved him more.

**Author's Note:**

> The title of this story and that of the series comes from [Andrew Lang's translation](http://www.poetry-archive.com/h/more_strong_than_time.html) of Victor Hugo's poem ["Puisque j'ai mis ma lèvre à ta coupe encor pleine"](http://poesie.webnet.fr/lesgrandsclassiques/poemes/victor_hugo/puisque_j_ai_mis_ma_levre_a_ta_coupe_encor_pleine.html)


End file.
